Hefting a plate of wholewheat crackers, cheese, and cold, vat-prepped sliced meat along with a freshly brewed mug of coffee, Grady left the empty lounge. The conversation between Chalmers and him hadn’t lasted much longer. Soon the professor excused herself and retired to her quarters, telling him she needed time alone mentally to process all he’d revealed to her.
Before they parted, she stood in front of Grady and rested her hand on his forearm. “Thank you for trusting me, Jack. I know we haven’t always seen eye-to-eye, but after everything we’ve been through, I’m glad to see we’ve moved past that now. Something tells me Adventurer’s small crew—and that includes Sam and me—will have to depend on each other even more before we safely dock at New Heb again. Our own New Heb, that is. Not the one in this parallel universe.”
“I couldn’t agree more, Monika,” Grady said, addressing her first name as they’d previously agreed. He was getting used to the warming in their relationship and found he liked it. And her. He filed that last thought away for later consideration and said, “And, em, yes. You and Sam are definitely part of the crew. Whatever lies ahead, the only friends we can count on in this reality are right here aboard Adventurer.” Her countenance grew somber at his words, perhaps thinking of the many uncertainties they faced if they were to return home in one piece. She nodded, squeezed his arm, and turned away without another word, leaving him alone in the lounge.
As Grady slid back into the pilot’s seat, balancing the small platter with care, Gizmo chirruped and lifted his head. From his position on the floor beneath Tara’s console, the animal’s pointed ears swiveled toward the captain, lips parted and pink tongue darting out to sample the air.
“He doesn’t miss much,” Grady said, placing the plate on a level surface on the opposite side of the pilot’s station.
“Nope,” she replied, “he doesn’t. And you’re smart to keep that grub well away from him.”
Grady began eating, his hand hovering over his food while he watched Gizmo out of the corner of his eye. “Hey, let him rustle up his own breakfast. This one’s already spoken for.”
Tara scrutinized the sensor holo, which remained devoid of contacts, and yawned. “No worries, Bro. I discourage him from scrounging. I’m still figuring out what he most likes to eat and what’s safe for him to digest. Though so far, he seems to be more-or-less omnivorous.” She leaned over the armrest and peered at his plate. “I could do with a caffeine hit and munchies myself. Why don’t I take him back to my cabin and feed him before I whip up some chow? It’s pretty quiet. Seems we’re not attractive enough bait to draw in any pirates, at least not yet.”
He gave a wave of his hand. “Go ahead. I’ll comm you if any hostiles show up.”
After Tara left, trailed by Gizmo, Grady settled back into his seat and downed a swig of coffee. “Mal, anything new on long range scans?”
“Negative, Matey,” said the AI, sounding bored. “I detected a slow-moving craft, probably a freighter, a few minutes ago close to the nearest shipping route. It appears to have jumped to FTL and is no longer on sensors.” A sound like an exhalation of held-in breath leaked from the overhead speakers. “It’s a mighty slow day here on the outskirts of the Badlands. Where are all those bandits I’ve heard so much about?”
Zoe snorted from where she sat at the weapons and navigation controls. “Tell me about it. You’d think I’d be used to the waiting at this point in my military career.”
“I don’t know if you ever become accustomed to the lull before going into action,” Grady said. “It’s always a tense time for everyone.”
Zoe cursed and brushed her fingers across the edge of her console. “I never thought I’d say this, but we need some brigands. This waiting is killing me!”
Grady swiveled his seat to face her, careful not to spill any of his food. “If you’re hungry too, Mal and I can keep watch while you snag something to eat.”
“Thanks, but I’m good. I ate right before I came on duty, figuring it might be a long shift.” She flicked her gaze to the starfield gracing the wraparound screen. “I bet Rosie would recommend meditation at a time like this. She’s always trying to get me to chill out more.”
Her demeanor grew gloomy, and her voice took on a reflective tinge. “What do you think she’s like?”
Grady didn’t need to ask who she meant. “The Rosie in this parallel universe? Similar, but different to the one we’re familiar with. Who knows how events unfolded here, especially given what we’ve been told about the shaky state of the rebellion? Could have affected her in ways we can’t begin to predict without meeting her.”
Zoe tugged on her earlobe. “Yeah, I hear you.” She hesitated, then met his gaze. “If that ever happens, she won’t know me, will she? Even if my double in this dimension got to meet her, which is uncertain, she’s not the exact same as me. Nor is this reality’s Rosie the same as mine. And, if they do know each other, coming face-to-face with a second Zoe could really freak Rosie out. I know it would screw with my head.”
Grady paused before responding, weighing his words. When he spoke, his tone was gentle. He could only imagine how much his first officer must be hurting, not knowing if she would ever see Rosie—her Rosie, the version she knew and loved—again. “Best not to let that happen, eh? In case it ends up being super strange, or painful, for all concerned.”
“Just so long as we figure out how to return to our own dimension. And soon. I don’t fancy withering away to an old crone trapped in this godforsaken reality, whatever it turns out to be like.”
Taking a slow sip of coffee, Grady’s reply died on his lips when a loud chime sounded and Mal announced, “Incoming fusion tunnels detected. Looks like company’s arriving after all, arrr.”
“Tunnels, plural?” Grady asked, swiveling his chair to face the front of the cockpit before examining the sensor display. “How many ships?”
“Uh-oh!” said the AI. “I count five,” he paused, “make it six vessels, inbound. A mix of bombers and fighters. They are forming up in readiness for attack.”
“Crap,” Zoe said. “I guess they didn’t buy the phony distress call after all. That’s a welcoming committee packing a barrel full of firepower. Pretty efficient for pirates, if you ask me.”
Grady resisted the urge to curse. “Too damn efficient. Seems they decided to band together before tackling us. I’d hoped for one or two outlaw craft to show up, since we’re at the extreme periphery of the Badlands. Not an entire squadron with cannons already primed for action.”
He held his breath as the tactical holo populated, displaying a breakdown of each hostile ship’s weaponry and capabilities. The fusion tunnels winked shut as the last of the incoming craft reentered normal space. Several were older models, not much different from those he was familiar with from his own reality. Under different circumstances, he might have been tempted to give the pirates a taste of Adventurer’s upgraded weapons system. But that wouldn’t help them find a repair facility and might result in further damage to the ship, which was the last thing he wanted to risk in an alternate dimension where they had yet to locate a safe place to dock.
“Reactivating all systems. We need to fall back and regroup,” Grady said. “Maybe identify an even more remote sector of the Badlands and try the plan again.”
“No argument from me.” Zoe effortlessly tapped her holo, her fingers gliding across the virtual controls. “This area has lost its folksy appeal. I’m raising shields and powering primary weapons.”
“Acknowledged,” Grady said, gesturing with his hand. He looked at the ceiling. “Mal, send an encrypted signal to Fidelon for him to bug out and muster at the designated coordinates beyond the Badlands.” He reached for the internal comm, not waiting for the AI to answer. “This is the captain. Prepare for an emergency jump to FTL.”
“Um, we have a problem, Matey,” Mal said.
“You mean other than the half dozen enemy vessels preparing to unload their weapons against us?”
“Aye, I do,” Mal replied. “Fidelon just sent an urgent comm. He’s not going to be able to join us at the standby rendezvous point.”
Grady’s head whipped back. “What? Why not?”
“He received an urgent message from his mothership, Infinity Guardian Epsilon. Seems one of his remote monitoring outposts has gone dark without any explanation. He’s concerned it may have been destroyed and is obligated to leave without delay and investigate. We’re on our own.”
6
“Damn. Patch me through to Fidelon, Mal,” Grady said, his hands clasped around the flight stick as he eyed the main viewscreen, which showed a live zoomed-in shot of the approaching attackers. “And sound battle stations.”
“Weapons fire,” Zoe yelled. Seconds later, the ship lurched as lurid energy blasts spat from the lead outlaw vessel splashed against the forward shields.
