Chapter 51

Third Mission, inbound in star system RKO-289 aboard the FUP Deep Space Exploration vessel Glenndeavor, 2401 CE

As I felt a soft, empty growl in the pit of my stomach, I realized that we had all missed lunch due to the need to abandon the Glenndeavor to her fate and make good our escape into the Big Black. I stood there between my two wives near the hatchway to the Flight Deck as Anika explained to G2 Cazinska why we’d all been laughing about her fearful alarm concerning the lack of enough feminine hygiene supplies and toilet paper for what lay ahead of us. I watched as the young woman calmed down—a bit anyway.

For Cazinska’s part, after wiping her eyes with the back of her left hand and sniffing several times, she apologized for making a scene. Promising Beatrice that she would try her best not to be a contrarian, she looked around, making eye contact with each of us. The tall young woman asked us to make sure she remained as busy as possible to divert her imagination from dwelling on the negative aspects of the dilemma we faced.

I was starting to feel fatigued, and realized my body was responding to the stress and the 40-plus minutes of adrenaline and terror that had coursed though my body. I needed food, but I needed to keep myself focused—we all needed to stay focused. We’d survived, had ample supplies, I was sure, and now we needed to take steps to ensure we’d be ready if the Royal Yacht was required to retrieve individual life pods from out of the Big Black. I didn’t want to consider what it would be like to be inside one of those things right now. We’d all been inside trainer pods during advanced schooling after basic. The individual capsule I’d trained on had been like being inside a closed, roomy coffin. At the time I had to admit to PAW that if I ever did have to evacuate a ship using a pod, I would be in trouble. Because without anybody I could see or touch, and knowing I was surrounded by the vacuum of space, I would certainty need to put myself into stasis sooner rather than later—or go insane.

My Juliet spoke up; actually in her role as Captain Mindenhall-Sitwell, command pilot of the FUP Ship Royal Yacht, and she asked Mister Henderson if she had an up-to-date manifest of all the contraband aboard the vessel. Finding out that Beatrice did; Juliet detailed G3 Henderson and G2 Cazinska to go to the galley and use the comp there to ascertain the amounts of food and water that were available as part of the regular supplies aboard the shuttle.

Our shuttle Captain requested that Mister Henderson add the shuttle’s supply tallies to the manifest figures on her data pad along with any food and drink supply figures that Mister Blaugelt-Sitwell could provide reflecting her personal stores. Once that was done, Juliet wanted Bea to enter the aggregate information into the vessel’s log file. Juliet told the two women, that once they had made the log entry, they were to prepare a nutritious lunch for all hands. Our shuttle Captain then told the rest of us we were going to be clearing the cargo airlock.

Before we could turn to leave the Passenger Deck, Captain Mindenhall-Sitwell informed the rest of the crew that it was possible that our shuttle might be detailed to help retrieve escape pods; so the cargo airlock must be made ready immediately. She told G2 Xazan that once we were done clearing the airlock, she was to get a copy of the available medical supplies, both shuttle issue, contraband, as well as any in the Royal cargo holds. Juliet also told her that, after we ate, Xazan should be ready to assist as our medic if and when the Royal Yacht was detailed to retrieve escape pods.

“Anything else anyone wants to bring to my attention?” Juliet asked us. No one moved. Our vessel Captain nodded her helmet again. “Very good.”

“Well, let’s get the Royal Yacht spiffed up for company then,” Beatrice announced in a loud voice, rubbing her hands together with a grin on her pretty face under her Kilo helmet. Then each of us turned and started to head for our assignments. Our voluptuous mistress frowned and holding up both her hands, she turned and stopped us all in our tracks. “Mostly officers are in escape pods, yah know. Will that be a problem, Mister Sitwell?”

The wrong officer can be a huge problem, my paranoid ass-wipe let me know; and I shut him up before he could begin imagining what those facts could be. As it was, I was certain that my PAW would be the first voice of mutiny if any officer came aboard and became enamored with their power on the long flight we faced to the third planet. I didn’t want to have too interesting of a trip to our stated rendezvous point according to the updated course plot the shuttle received in the last transmission from the Evacuation Fleet Command Vessel that had contacted the Royal Yacht earlier.

“As commander of this vessel,” Juliet spoke up, “I will determine which escape pod or pods we retrieve, Mister Henderson. In that way, I don’t think your fears will become a problem.”

I knew that Juliet, being the Captain of our shuttle, had that discretionary power. However, I felt sure if we were ordered to retrieve any escape capsules that the Royal Yacht would be part of a much larger, coordinated effort. We’d be assigned specific pods to go after—but that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to try and find out the identity of the person aboard each of our targets.

“Would that be after you determine exactly who is aboard each pod by pinging C-ELMER’s database and before you assign me a retrieval target?” Mister Kyler asked Juliet. His question managed to sound as innocent as a boot, fresh from 13 weeks of basic training while showing me his mind was working along the same lines as mine own.

“I will place the responsibility of making those enquiries in Jameson’s capable hands,” our shuttle Captain told us as she gave me a look. “Because it is my responsibility to maintain the morale and cohesiveness of the crew and individuals aboard this vessel; and it will be so until we reach our destination and land. That means I must try and assure we don’t bring the wrong person or persons aboard. Now, let’s all get moving and accomplish our first goals.”

“If I might speak, Captain?” asked G2 Cazinska, the fair skin covering the cheeks on her face still looking splotchy from her long crying jag.

“Of course,” Juliet said with a slight tilt of her helmet to the right.

“I think I’m going to like traveling with all of you,” Caz told us, again looking around and meet the gaze of each of us. “I’ve been feeling sorry for myself for a couple of months now, and I see that will have to stop. I want to prove to each of you that I’m worthy of your help and consideration, and I’ll earn my salt from here on out.”

“Good,” our shuttle Captain addressed the tall young woman with the short, purple-dyed hair. “I will personally hold you to that, Mister Cazinska. From this point on, unless it is about ship’s business, please call me Juliet, or even Mindy among friends and off duty. However, we can’t forget our ratings or allow ourselves to get slack concerning this ship’s routine, but I don’t see why we can’t all be name-friends the rest of the time on this journey—do you?”

G2 Cazinska gave my first wife a heart-felt smile, and the transformation in her face was stunning. Cazinska was now a beautiful young woman. She was still taller than me, and I wondered if her hair color was the same light-blonde of her eyebrows and eyelashes—looks could be deceiving.

“All of you think about what I’ve said while we work,” Juliet told us. “After we eat, we can talk more about what we’re facing and how to go about keeping fit while expanding our skill sets as best we can during the time we’re in transit. Now, let’s proceed.”

“Dang!” announced my new name-friend, G3 Keith Christian Kyler—‘Please, call me Kyle.’ He was sitting in the chair directly across the galley table from me as he deeply inhaled the steaming aroma coming up from his tray for a third time. “You say you think all the ExServ victuals that are stocked in this sealed tube you guys named the Royal Yacht are going to be this quality, Beatrice?”

“Sure do, Kyle,” Bea sighed at the end of the table beyond Juliet on my right. Like the rest of us, the honey-blonde was now free of all her battle gear. She reached for the red bottle of hot sauce in front of Caz; also now know as Jodie Jane, who sat on the other side of the galley table next to Kyle.

“After Jodie Jane and I updated the Yacht’s log file, and we discovered the quality of what we picked out, the two of us checked the manufactures against the vendor database. From that, it seems like all the supplies provided on the Royal Yacht are high-quality stuff.”

As I put a spoonful of green peas into my mouth, my inner geek realized that Cazinska had washed her face, combed her hair, and she had removed the jackets she’d been wearing. Without the jackets I’d seen earlier as we followed her back toward the galley, I realized that even with the loosely-fitting duty blues she wore that Mister Cazinska was a nicely proportioned, tall, young woman. Her purple hair actually made her light-blue eyes seem bigger and I could see by the lively intelligence there now that she wasn’t scared completely out of orbit. Part of me marveled at the change in G2 Cazinska, but my PAW let me know that only time, and another unexpected pressure situation, would tell.

“I am saying now—” Anika sitting in the chair to my left told the transformed young woman, “—we are not to be calling you, Jodie Jane, by JJ as little name.” Bringing a forked cube of red watermelon up to her mouth and then popping the nugget between her lips Anika added, “—’is ‘ill be causin’,” my younger wife managed to say as she chewed, “confusion wid my own wonerful JJ,” and she swallowed. “Yes?”

At the left end of the galley table, Melvina Bimini snorted back a small laugh and quickly took a drink from her water glass.

I was happy that none of our new name-friends stopped eating to ask about the identity of Anika’s JJ; thank-goodness—or else they thought she was referring to me. While Kyle; Helen Clementine Xazan, who’d asked to be called anything but Clem; and Jodie Jane Cazinska were now name-friends with all of us, I still didn’t think we knew them well enough yet to be talking about Anika’s strap-on personal pleasuring device and any of its high-tech glory over food this early in our flight.

“Manners,” warned Juliet from near my right elbow in a soft voice directed at our Polka Fireball, and then my first love took a sip of coffee—that I have to admit almost rivaled Lieutenant Obeydezay’s heavenly brew. As I chewed on a bite of savory, gravy-dipped meatloaf, I wondered where in the stream of evacuation boats heading for the third planet he was right now. I hoped Obeydezay had had the time to retrieve his entire supply of coffee beans and his fabled coffeemaker before he escaped the Glenndeavor. My inner geek decided that at the first opportunity we’d find out the disposition of our friends by searching all the information to be found on the C-ELMER channel, if that was at all possible.

We ate in relative quiet for the next five minutes or so around the galley table. I enjoyed the wonderful food while silently reflecting on what had happened. However, with the meal reminding me of my Gramma’s cooking, I didn’t dwell on the tragedy overly long.

The meatloaf on my tray smelled and tasted wonderful; awash in rich, dark-brown gravy. The small mountain of thick mashed potatoes sprinkled with chives and black pepper in front of me seemed to have a big square of real butter, now almost completely melted, in its steamy, creamy white caldera. When I spooned a bite of the nicely hot potato concoction into my mouth, my taste buds happily agreed with my eyes. There were green peas that tasted to me to be fresh, as well as a fruit salad made of peaches, crisp watermelon cubes, apple curls, and raisins. If I didn’t know better, I wouldn’t have guessed that any of the food had been frozen, or whatever. Perhaps the fruits had been in a stasis unit.

About 55 minutes earlier, those of us detailed to clear the cargo airlock had found that only some of the gear—the loose items on the deck and not inside the blankets or secured on the forks of the ratcheted down lift truck—got mingled together in those moments the interior of the shuttle experienced weightlessness when the Royal Yacht departed from its docking bay. Juliet, Anika, Mel, Xaz, Kyle, and I worked about 45 minutes to clear the airlock. For the time being, we had secured all those items in the cargo bay holding the other material brought up from the Access Bay prior to and during the evacuation. As we finished, Caz found us. We followed her back to our waiting meal in the galley located forward, beyond the cargo air lock and Special Needs Cargo Bays 001 and 002. The galley was on the starboard side of the shuttle and was part of what was known as Forward Stowage Space A between the forward cargo area bulkhead and the bulkhead at the stern of the Passenger Deck.

Before we sat down here around the galley table, those of us not name friends with someone introduced ourselves, offering our first and nicknames to Kyle, Helen—who said she preferred to be called Xaz, and to Jodie Jane.

Jodie Jane, sitting on the other side of the table to my right, had then asked us to join hands. After we did, the tall young woman with her short, purple hair said a heart-felt prayer of thanks for our safe deliverance. Then she announced her personal gratefulness for the food we were about to eat in such fine, welcoming company.

“As the Captain of the Royal Yacht,” Juliet spoke up while she put her coffee cup down near her empty tray, “I will be the final word as to what happens aboard until we reach the third planet and we land, following the procedures noted in ExServ regulations. In the meantime, I will listen to each of you if you have any concerns or suggestions.”

One of your women gets command status, my PAW groused, and she starts lording over you. Hope you’re happy now, sucker. I paid him no attention.

“For those of you who don’t already know,” Juliet continued, and I saw her looking at Caz across the table, “and I’ve been told I can tell you this—the ah, I guess, unlimited use of this shuttle was presented to Anika by Captain Mowmyier because Anika is the eldest daughter of Mieczyslaw Barbazyli Piast, of Nowe Gniezno, who is the commanding general of that government’s military and the eldest son of Czar Nikallas Wladyslaw Piast.”

Caz’s eyes went big under her arching, light-blonde eyebrows and her mouth opened in silent surprise.

“You can be asking any questions you are having later, Caz,” Anika spoke up from my left. “Czy mowisz po polsku?“

“Ahhh,” the young woman said, quickly looking around the table at each of us to see our reactions to what she’d just learned, “no ... no, Anika, I don’t speak the language. I was born and grew up on New Lublin, and both of my grandmothers will tell you I don’t speak Polish because I’m lazy. But when I was growing up, they’d speak their version of Polish really fast so us kids couldn’t follow what they were talking about—gossip mostly, or nasty comments about the neighbors. I can understand some spoken and written Polish though; I just can’t speak more than a few words, and when I try more, my grammar is terrible ... sorry.”

“No apologies are needed,” my Polka Fireball said with a smile I heard in her voice. “I am never making such for my spectacular application of this funny language, FedEnglish—and you are understanding gists of my meanings. Yes?”

“I guess ... yes ... I am,” Caz replied to Anika question. Then she gave my curly, copper-haired wife an innocent, expectant look and asked, “So, Anika, you’re really a royal princess or something—that’s why you named the shuttle the Royal Yacht?”

Bea giggled, and reaching out from her seat on the right end of the table, she took Caz by her left hand which the taller young woman was resting beside her empty tray.

“I’d go with the or something,” our honey-blonde Green Thumb Princess told our new name-friend. “Not to embarrass you, Jodie Jane—but remember that delicate question that I asked you earlier? Well, watch out for our Polka Fireball over there—she demands submission.”

“Hah!” Anika snorted, crossing the arms of her duty blues under the bountiful front of her slightly rumpled overalls as she sat back in her chair. “I am just knowing my mind and desires,” she said and looked across the table at Xaz who just eyed our Fireball in return with a very good poker face.

I quickly looked to my right to see any further reaction Jodie Jane might display. With her high cheek-boned features turning bright red under her short, purple hair, Caz just turned from gazing at Beatrice and stared at Anika across the length of the table where my younger wife was sitting on my left—Cazinska’s eyes full of surprise.

“Oh, my goodness,” Jodie Jane finally said in a soft voice as I saw Kyle on the other side of the table from me looking back and forth between Caz and Bea without noticing the momentary interplay between Anika and Xaz. “That JJ she mention, Bea ... ah, is that what she calls that, well, that thing you told me about?”

“Oh, yes indeed,” Beatrice giggled, giving Cazinska’s hand a gentle little shake on the table. “Yes indeed.”

“I’ve been warned,” Melvina spoke up from the left end of the galley table with what I thought sounded almost like kidding glee in her voice, “I should steer clear of that part of the Sitwell family’s outpouring of love and affection. However Caz, I can tell you, truth told, the rest has been ... well, just dreamy so far. Well, that is, once I quit fighting myself.”

“Ahhh,” Helen Xazan said, taking hold of Kyle’s right hand with her left as she sat back in her chair, “I don’t think it’s gotten to that part of the voyage yet for me kids. Please, too much information!” And giving Anika another look across the table, she started to laugh.

“Wait,” said Kyle, turning to his girlfriend with a slightly restrained look on his face as if he hoped he understood exactly what he’d been hearing and wanted to hear it again in forthright language. “Just what are you guys talking about?”

“I’ll explain it to you tonight once we’re in bed, Baby,” Xaz whispered in a voice loud enough for everyone at the table to hear.

Beatrice started laughing while not letting go of Jodie Jane Cazinska’s hand, and the young woman seemed comforted by Bea’s hand holding hers.

“I must insist, ah, Captain Mindenhall-Sitwell,” I spoke up, hoping to get matters back to a practical level before anything else of a personal nature came up, like Anika describing her JJ and what she used as a model for the shape of the three attachments, “that everyone participates in PE once a day for the duration—”

“—Of which, I am conducting and being instructor of same,” the Polka Fireball spoke up, reaching over and patting the back of my left hand near my empty tray and coffee cup. “As well as providing open-hand, or hand-to-hand instructions to sharpen everyone’s skills, as such methods are known by some. This will be taking, I am thinking, hour and forty minutes combined, each day. We can be affording such expenditure of time during our day, Captain, yes?”

“I agree,” Juliet replied. “From my own recent experiences, I agree completely.”

“Also,” I told everyone at the table. “I want all of us trained to work as a team, a combat team, by the time we reach planet-fall. That way we can meet any threat we might encounter to the best of our abilities, especially with Anika in charge off that training as well.”

“Yes,” said Anika from her chair to my left, giving my hand an enthusiastic squeeze.

“Very good,” Juliet said from my right with a nod of her blonde head. “We will have a period of scheduled, physical exercise, once every ship’s day. Again, Anika, you will be in charge, and we will begin after the shuttle is squared away, we’ve established our routine, and the Royal Yacht has retrieved any escape pods the shuttle might be ordered to bring aboard. I also agree with your assessment, Mister Sitwell; Mister Blaugelt-Sitwell, you will also be in charge of training all of us with the goal of becoming a cohesive combat team.

“Now, my next question, to you, Anika,” Juliet said looking past me toward Anika. “Would every other day for the first month be sufficient in your opinion to accomplish that goal—then we’ll evaluate our progress and adjust our training schedule accordingly after that? Right now it seems the fleet’s transit time will be fifty-two days until the first evacuation vessels being making orbit around the third planet. I have no information about how retrieving any escape pods will affect our transit time, if it does at all. I am certain that the Royal Yacht has delta-V to burn compared to the majority of the rest of the evacuation fleet.”

“Is good plan, Captain,” my Polka Fireball replied, leaning forward and resting her left forearm on the edge of the galley table. “All here have benefited from tactical training during basic training, so, ahhh, elie—elementary concepts are known to all—or should be. Concentration to learning advanced tactics—and then repetition of training evolutions are being key. What each will be learning will give all of us best opportunity to be saving our fine, fit asses if gowno should happen to be striking impeller once this excellent vessels is safely on third planet ... for any reason.”

“We must realize,” I said and looked past Anika to Melvina, where she sat at that end of the galley table, “that Melvina, due to her unique communications skills and training, might be transferred from the Royal Yacht the closer we get to the third planet. Mel, I’d appreciate it if you’d teach Jodie Jane in particular, how to act as our team’s replacement sparks. We’ll have to look through all the available comm equipment we’ve managed to collect since we don’t have three Kilo helmets available. But we’ll make do with whatever contraband items we have accumulated ... or perhaps something Anika’s father might have contributed to her stores. We will equip Jodie Jane, Xaz, and Kyle with comm units the best we can.”

“Of course, Mister Sitwell,” the red-head with the prominent nose and receding chin spoke up, becoming G4 Bimini in her manner as she sat up straight. “Forty minutes together, every other day, and I’ll have Mister Cazinska trained better than any boot coming out of their secondary specialty school by the time this shuttle reaches our destination, or I’m required to depart. I’ll not let the team down.”

I could feel everyone around the galley table perk up and I hoped that was our first step in becoming a cohesive crew instead of my household and whatever strays we end up ferrying to the third planet.

“I am also having interesting mechanism...” Anika spoke up, as I suddenly held my breath at how she was going to finish her sentence, while hoping I’d not hear the nickname, JJ, come out of her sweet lips, “ ... which, being attached to rifle or pistol, is providing very reasonable alter—alternative to firing of weapon at targets on rifle range. I am thinking that with hatchways open between Passenger Deck and rear cargo hold passageway, this system will easily simulate up to two-hundred meter range—yes?”

“That wouldn’t be yet another technical breakthrough from the research facilities of Nowe Gniezno?” Juliet asked.

“Actually, is old tech,” Anika told us, and with a yawn, she sat up and stretched her arms up above her shoulders as she pushed her ample chest out under her duty blues while she made her hands into fists. The curly-haired young woman slowly rotated her fists around on her wrists, making four circuits before she dropped her arms. “I am thinking PE session in next hour, perhaps two, would be helpful. How should we be proceeding, now that stomachs are filled; Mister Sitwell, Captain Mindenhall-Sitwell?” she asked both of us.

“I think a PE session would center all of us, now that I think about it—yes,” Captain Juliet said.

“How long will it take to deploy those compartment panels you told us about?” I asked my younger wife.

“With all hands being helpful,” said Anika, shrugging her shoulders, “two large on one side and three smaller compartments on the other side of presently empty cargo bay for sleeping will be taking, I am thinking, two hours in set up, with sufficient left over paneling for dirt-side quarters once we are landing.”

“I’d like us to have our sleeping and personal quarters established as soon as possible, Captain” I said to my first wife. “With five compartments, and if we retrieve any personnel from escape pods, Caz can have her own quarters—”

“—I’ll share with Melvina,” Jodie Jane spoke up. “That is, if she doesn’t mind. That way, you know, there’s more room for anybody we have to pluck out of the All Alone in those little cans,” she told us with a shiver shaking her frame. “Eeeww, just thinking about being cooped up in one of those little things and being faced with having to go into stasis ... golly, it just gives me the willies, let me tell you.”

I realized I hadn’t thought of separate quarters for Mel—perhaps assuming she would bunk with us now that she’d spent the night with Juliet.

“I’d like that, Jodie,” Melvina Bimini told the tall young woman from the left end of the galley table. “Thank you for that nice offer. It’ll be refreshing to bunk with someone who wants me to be there for once.”

“Okay,” I said, looking at Caz with a smile and hoping I didn’t seem flustered from my mental faux pas about where Mel would be sleeping, “with five compartments that will allow us to have two others available for new faces. Once we get the panels up, our bedding laid out, and some of our belongings dragged into our new quarters, we’ll have someplace to retire, once our duty watches are over. Then we can suffer under your guidance during PE, Anika.”

“Presently,” said Beatrice in her military-voice, “for everyone’s information, Special Needs Cargo Bay Oh-Oh-One now holds our vac suits, their support gear, as well as the weapons associated with that system. SN Cargo Bay Oh-Oh-Two is where we stashed all the gear—as well as what was left in the airlock during our evacuation?”

“Correct,” said Juliet confirming Bea’s question. “That’s where we put everything for now.”

“Okay, so with Cargo Bay Oh-Oh-Four and its four sub-bays holding Anika’s always surprising things,” said Mister Henderson, “only Cargo Bay Oh-Oh-Three remains empty. That bay is large enough to easily be divided into ample quarters with deck space left over.”

“Exactly; and now, what about duty watches?” I enquired as Juliet met my gaze. “l for one, Captain, don’t want you to have to be on the Flight Deck twenty-four-seven to monitor the ship, communications, and surrounding space. We’re on auto-pilot right now, I take it.”

“Auto-Nav actually; and not to worry,” our shuttle Captain told me and I could see everyone else around the galley table paying close attention to Juliet’s words. “The Royal Yacht’s artificial intelligence and I have had several, ahh, conversations over the last few days, if that is what I might call them. The AI will respond to the enunciated honorific Ship, Yacht, or Are Why.”

“Are Why?” Beatrice asked from her end of the table. “Why Are Why?” She was still holding hands with Caz who seemed comfortable with the arrangement.

“That is the letters R and Y,” Juliet told Bea, “short for Royal Yacht. I’ve gotten the feeling the AI prefers to be addressed in that manner.

“RY,” Juliet spoke up, raising her eyes to look up at the overhead, “please report ship’s status.”

“This shuttle,” a surprisingly rich baritone, male voice replied from the galley’s audio emitters, “is conforming to the programmed course while maintaining a three-hundred meter clearance from the shuttle Bee Hive, which is located on this vessel’s starboard quarter. There are no unknown contacts or navigational hazards within this shuttle’s action sphere. Parameters of all operating systems are optimized. I am monitoring all available fleet communications traffic. You will be notified immediately of any changes or incoming hails. There is nothing else to report at this time.”

“Is that the voice of Kirtland Boyer?” Xaz asked from the other side of the galley table, and I could hear the teasing in her tone while I felt Juliet to my right momentarily stiffen in her seat next to me.

“Who is being this Boyer person?” Anika asked. “Ah, Captain?”

Yes, I wanted to know who this Boyer person could be because the name wasn’t familiar to me.

Juliet didn’t answer.

Whoa, boy! my paranoid ass-wipe chortled from my lizard brain. What is this about?

“He’s that actor,” Helen Xazan told us, seeming to think we should all know who she was talking about, while wearing a big grin on her face, and I could see mirth in her brown eyes. “Come on, it’s past time to get online with Fed-flow low culture! Kirtland Boyer portrays Space Agent Dunkerdale on EntertaiNet—you know, in that terrible space opera that’s been on absolutely forever. Ah, it’s called, Frontiers of Danger. My mom and all my aunts love that guy.”