Chapter 15
José and the old man had returned after a few hours. The former happily full of mocha lattes and the later complaining about how rich chocolate gave him the runs. He had only bemoaned his way through one cup of espresso before the airlock cycled again and Squirrel and O'Riley came through.
“How did it go?” Any good leads?” asked M'Elise, leaning against the doorway.
“I love you!” exclaimed Squirrel running up and embracing her.
“Um, well, that's fine,” said M'Elise awkwardly, then, “Hey! No tongue!”
“My turn! My turn!” shouted José.
O'Riley came up and peeled her off M'Elise. “That's enough of that now, miss.”
Squirrel let go and started clinging to him, running her hands through his hair. “I love you too!” she crooned.
“I hope you have a good explanation for this Riley,” said M'Elise, reflexively brushing herself down.
He peeled Squirrel's hands from his and dodged her attempts to kiss him. “Well, you know how they say there's this stuff in chocolate that makes you feel like you're in love? Seems some bright spark has isolated that factor and optimized for it. They had some of this 'enhanced' chocolate at this one warehouse.” Squirrel had started dancing around him like a pole. José clapped. “She popped a bit in her mouth before they could tell her it was a concentrate and was intended to be watered down.”
“I love you!” Squirrel said, dancing for the old man. “Like a father!”
“Should I be insulted or flattered?” the old man asked.
“With you as her chaperone I'm surprised you made it back to the ship,” laughed M'Elise.
“I may be an animal, but I'm not that sort of animal” protested O'Riley. He took up her hands again. “Now miss, lets get you locked up tight in your room with some romance novels.”
“I'll help,” offered José.
“Not a chance,” said M'Elise. “Leave is over for you. We're going to that warehouse and picking up a palette or two of that chocolate. I can see a market for that.”
Several hours later the José Fabuloso was outbound, with a belly full of chocolate in its small cargo hold. The convoy was forming up and José resigned to having his freedom of flight restrained again. He slid them into place with barely a close call.
“Looking good topside?” asked O'Riley on the intercom.
“No,” said José.
“Yes,” said M'Elise.
“Don't fret my speed junkie friend. Let me catch a few winks and then I'll set upon fixing that #12 gimbal. Then you can shake this thing all over the place.”
“Got that,” said M'Elise. “Gonna be quiet. Squirrel's sleeping it off and Mr. Osteoporosis talked his dad into giving him the master suite this jump to rest his weak heart after watching Squirrel dance.”
“I've got my own peace to make with the saints after showing such restraint” said O'Riley.
M'Elise laughed and shut down the channel. She listened briefly to the intership chatter. “Any news on those Junks?”
José shook his head. “They jumped ahead of us.”
“Wellington as well?”
“Their flight plan said Aozou, but they slowed way down first, so they could be anywhere.”
After a while she asked. “How's your board doing? I tried fitting a few gaskets to fix the wobble.”
“It's OK.”
“I'm getting a flicker here on the airlock indicator. Seems I've got to fix that as well.” She tapped it a few times and then logged it onto her work sheet. “Oh,” she added reluctantly, “You should know. The Rich Kingford will be in dock in Wellington.”
“Really?” said José with surprise. “It will be fun to see everyone again.”
“I should have guessed” said M'Elise to herself. “You should ask the Captain to dinner.”
“Do you think he would come?”
“You're the Captain of your ship now. You're equals.”
“Wow,” he said. “You could ask out Lt. Oxyartes, now. You're an officer. You said you liked his butt.”
“That's not what I said!” She laughed out loud. “What I said was that he was a hard ass!”
“Oh” said José quietly. “I told him you liked his butt.”
“You what? Odin audit me! That must be why... I thought he was just playing with my mind.”
“See. You should ask him out.”
“Oh, I'm not sure I have any happy memories of that ship. It would just be too weird.”
“But wasn't it funny when Midshipman Ju got her head stuck in the toilet?”
“Did you ever stop to think how that happened? Scuttlebutt had it that... Hey!” M'Elise shouted as one hand grabbed her head and another appeared in front of her face holding some sort of pistol grip weapon.
“Leave her alone,” shouted José, pushing back from his console.
“I wouldn't advise moving” said the woman in the form fitting black jumpsuit. Small stars flecked the surface, moving slightly. “Unless you would like to see your sister's pretty face messed up.” José stopped indecisively.
“Excuse me,” said M'Elise through a clenched jaw. “Didn't they teach you in bad guy school that projectile weapons on space ships are a really bad idea? I'd hate to see you kill yourself by killing me.”
The woman wormed her fingers deeper into M'Elise's hair and turned the pistol sideways briefly. “Inert gas canister powered, sculpted crystal micro-flechettes, dissolve upon penetrating skin releasing an enchantingly fast acting nervous system paralytic.” She turned it back to M'Elise's face. “Works best penetrating the eyes. So, yes, they teach us that, and many other things in The Sorority.”
“Oh!” said José, “We had...”
“Yes, you killed one of my sorority sisters,” she said with some venom.
“More like assisted suicide,” mumbled M'Elise.
The woman twisted her head harder. “You're awfully cheeky for someone with the end of their life flashing before their eyes.”
“I explained to your incompetent friends out there,” she rolled her eyes towards the main view screen. “Threatening lethal force instead of using it implies that you have something to gain by not using it and thus the threat is rendered empty.”
The woman smiled in an unkindly way, and leaned closer. “Why, yes, I could just kill you. I can fly this ship. I can search this ship.” She continued conspiratorially, “but I was looking forward to torturing you slowly to death during transition in memory of my dear departed sister.” She let that sink in. “So, by all means, keep acting the bitch and you'll get a quick death and spoil my memorial service or you can delude yourself that you will think your way out of this and buy time by doing exactly what I say.”
José fidgeted while M'Elise thought about it. “I'm a firm believer in enlightened self interest,” M'Elise said finally. “I'll put my delusional hope of escape against your cathartic desire for torture.”
The woman gave her head one final twist and let it go. “Glad to see we're on the same page.” She slapped a small sticky square on her forehead.
“Hey!” said M'Elise, reaching up. “What's...”
“Shaped charge explosive,” said the woman, not moving to stop her, which made M'Elise freeze in her tracks. The woman seemed disappointed. “If you mess with it, it blows. If you get too far from me, it blows. If I die, it blows.” She smiled evilly. She then turned very quickly and slapped one on José's forehead. “And one for your brother as well.”
“He's not my brother,” said M'Elise.
“Yes, but he's as dear to you as my sister was to me, no? Well, it might be amusing to play roulette later and see how dear you are to each other.”
“It itches” said José. “May I scratch it Miss Sister?”
“Be my guest, scratch away. It probably won't go off. And call me Ninajatuli. I'm not formal. Amazing how immanent death brings on such intimacies?”
José looked uncomfortable and tried to stare at it cross eyed. “Don't t
ease him,” said M'Elise. “Let me get him an analgesic from the infirmary. That will stop the itching.” She moved to get up.
“Not so fast,” said Ninajatuli. “Head count says we've got two on the bridge with explosive cranial restraints. If I'm not mistaken, two more in crew quarters, which I took the liberty of gluing shut on my way up here. That leaves one in engineering, if I heard right when I tapped into your comm channel.”
“Check,” said M'Elise, sullenly.
“What to do, what to do.” She tapped a long finger against her thin lips. “I could nip on down there and kill him, if I could trust you on the bridge unchaperoned. Or I could make our charmingly mustachioed pilot bring him a prepared snack under threat of his beloved sister's head getting to big for her health. Or I guess you could just summon him up here into an ambush if I trusted you not to tip him off. No perfect plan presents itself. What to do?”
“Space him,” said M'Elise.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Trip the fire alarm. That sequences an emergency atmospheric purge. After a few minutes of vacuum it replaces the air from reserves.”
“But...” began José.
“Look,” said M'Elise sternly. “Some of us have to get out of this alive.”
“My, how quickly you've come around to trying to ingratiate yourself to me.”
“I never liked him.”
“Show me the process.” M'Elise called up and passed her the requisite section of the ship's operation manual. “Hmm. Quite simple. If a bit messy. I like how you think. This is definitely one to remember.” José sat quietly, looking confused and conflicted. “Would you like to do the honors or shall I?”
“I'd rather keep what blood I can off my hands,” said M'Elise.
“Please Miss Ninajatuli!” begged José.
M'Elise interrupted. “Remember what I said when you tried to stop them beating me up on the Rich Kingford? No heroics. I got us through that then. I'll get us through this now.”
Ninajatuli finished activating the process. She clasped her hands with glee as the distant thump and small shudder echoed through the hull just before the decompression klaxon sounded.
“Gasping for air. Bleeding eyes and ears. A body desiccating into vacuum. I'd forgotten just how fun explosive decompression was!” A single tear rolled down José's cheek.
There were more thumps and hisses as the air cycled back into place. The Klaxon fell silent. Other indicators lit up. M'Elise pointed at the communication lights. “The remaining crew wants to know what's up. Shall I tell them or shall you?”
Ninajatuli motioned for the pickup. “Good morning crew! This is your new Captain, Ninajatuli speaking. Please remain calm and stay in your cabins. Or go hysterical and pound your head against your locked doors. I really don't care. Later I'll be visiting each one of you to find out what role you had in the death of my dear sorority sister. The interviews will be detailed and most exacting. I promise you. So prepare yourself, but don't try anything. I just flushed your engineer's life into space and I'm prepared to do the same for any one of you at the least provocation. So sit tight and wait your turn.” She smiled in self satisfaction. “Looking pretty grim, eh?”
“You've got us right where you want us,” said M'Elise without emotion.
“Not quite.” She tapped the charts on the screen. “Convoys make me claustrophobic. And I never liked Wellington anyway. Pilot: move us to the edge of the convoy.”
“My name is José.”
“Very well, José, move us to the edge of the convoy.”
“There's a fine for breaking formation” said M'Elise.
“There's an even bigger one for altering your flight plan without notice. All those poor, poor merchants whose transitional coordinates will be thrown off by the absence of a point mass in a group transition. I'm tearing up just thinking about it.”
“Just saying.”
“Well I don't care about your reputation. Just do it.”
“I haven't got a ticket yet in this system,” said José with the smallest hint of enthusiasm.
“Don't try anything,” warned Ninajatuli. José started on the controls, edging them away from the center stream. Suddenly the screen spun and they started pirouetting rapidly toward a tanker. “Didn't I just say not to try anything?”
José fought with the controls, sending the ship into a drunken stagger back the way they came. “Number twelve is gone!”
“We've got a bad engine gimbal,” explained M'Elise. “Our engineer was going to fix it but you just flushed him...”
Ninajatuli took a deep breath and tried to calm growing frustration. “Just steady us out, José. You, when our tin plated chaperones ask us about that stunt, give them a good explanation.”
José struggled a bit more, but knowing the source of the problem made it easier to compensate. He brought them back into alignment as M'Elise reported the problem to convoy command.
“You stay here,” Ninajatuli ordered José. Then she pointed at M'Elise. “You. Come with me to engineering. You look like you've got a strong stomach.”
M'Elise complied, grumpily. They stopped in the canteen for Ninajatuli to express delight in the espresso machine. “So there are perks in stealing a luxury yacht! I've got to have a cup of that.”
M'Elise sighed expansively and operated the machine. Dull thumps could be heard as someone battered on a cabin door. Ninajatuli watched M'Elise like a hawk until she was done. “Thank you,” she said, snatching it away before M'Elise could do anything aggressive with the hot liquid. “I think I'm going to like it here.” She motioned M'Elise on to Engineering. There was a slight pop as the pressure evened out between the two bulkheads. “Phew. Who would have thought the evaporated vital fluids of a body would smell like old sweat socks?”
“He piles dirty laundry on his hammock to keep warm,” said M'Elise. Ninajatuli started poking fastidiously at the heap in the hammock. “Um, number twelve is over there,” said M'Elise, pointing in the opposite direction. “Next to that stack of space suits.”
“So go fix it,” said Ninajatuli, a bit testily.
“I don't know how,” said M'Elise. “I flunked engineering in the Merchant Academy.”
“By the blessed virgins! Is it a standard model?” M'Elise shrugged. Ninajatuli put down the cup of espresso and walked over to it, glaring. “Before I was recruited by the Sorority I did a stint as a technical intern doing this sort of crap. Boy was I glad to get away from it.” She found an open panel with some wires hanging out. “This one?” M'Elise nodded. “Damn thing looks disconnected. What the hell was he doing?” She moved the dangling arm of a spacesuit out of the way in irritation. As she did so the gloved hand raised and squeezed the trigger of the grease gun it was holding, sending a large gelatinous blob into her face.
She cried inarticulately, madly wiping her face and stepping back. With a whoomph she slammed to the deck, unnaturally fast between two humming housings.
M'Elise stood, monkey wrench in hand, over the prone body, confused. O'Riley disentangled himself from the pile of suits and lifted his visor. “You know, when those inertial generators get a little out of alignment they can cause terribly strong localized gravity fields.”
M'Elise nodded, impressed. “Well played.”
“Good to see you too,” he responded cynically. “I presume it was your idea to decompress engineering.”
“Yeah, well, I know you always sleep in your space suit.”
“Yep, even after all that time you've spent trying to wean me away from it.”
“Is she good for now?”
He leaned over and looked her up and down. “She'll probably faint in a bit. Her ribs are awfully heavy now and breathing's got to be hard. If she goes blue we'll have to do some sort of resuscitation.”
“Good. Next problem.” She tapped the patch on her forehead.
O'Riley laughed. “Let me guess, an explosive that goes off if she gets cranky?” M'Elise nodded. He picked up the espresso cup and felt
the temperature. “This should do. Those things are pretty fault tolerant. He pressed the cup to the patch on her forehead, then peeled it away from her skin, leaving it on the cup. “I used to play with these as a kid.” He grinned widely.
“José has one too. Why don't you see to him and then make a trip with them out the airlock, seeing as you are dressed for the occasion. The rest of the crew is glued into the cabins. I'll get some solvent and see if I can get them out. Then we have to decide what to do with our little sorority girl here.”