A Galaxy Unknown (5 page)

Jenetta blinked her eyes twice.

"Good," the doctor said, smiling. "Now take another sip of this drink and I'll activate the bed."

Jenetta took another slow drink from the cup that the doctor held to her mouth. She found it easier to swallow with each mouthful. As she relaxed from straining her neck muscles to help raise her head, she felt the tingling sensations begin. Each sensation was followed by an involuntary muscle twitch somewhere on her body.

Over the next several hours, the doctor returned occasionally to give Jenetta another drink from the sequence of liquids prescribed by her medical journal. Between visits, Jenetta, eager to talk, practiced reciting the letters of the alphabet to exercise the muscles of a mouth and tongue that still felt as if they were made of clay. She was desperate to get some answers, and since she couldn't yet lift her arms to write, she would have to get her voice back.

When she felt ready to try speaking again, she waited until after the doctor had given her a drink, and then asked in a hoarse voice, "How long was I floating out there?"

"My God, that was fast!" Doctor Erikson exclaimed, clearly taken aback by this first full sentence. "The medical journal estimates twenty-four to thirty-six hours before you'll be able to articulate a simple sentence. You've hardly been awake more than fifteen."

"How long,
please
?" Jenetta asked again in the most pleading voice that she could manage. "What's the date?" The words were slurred, owing to the still limited flexibility of her tongue and mouth, but recognizable.

The doctor hesitated before answering, knowing that the information would come as a shock to her patient. But the young woman appeared to be resilient, and she would have to be told eventually. As a Space Command officer, she had to have passed complex psychological exams that tested her ability to adapt calmly to potentially calamitous situations and out-comes.

"Brace yourself, Ensign. It's now June 7
^th
— 2267." The year was barely audible, as if saying it quietly would make the news more palatable, but Jenetta heard. "The bed controls show that you've been in stasis for ten years, five months, and six days. A new record as I understand it. The previous mark for a deep-space sleep was just a little over five years."

As the words washed over her, a look of shock, then desperation, filled her eyes. "Ten and a half years?" she slurred with barely mobile lips. "It seems like just yesterday that I climbed into the bed. A mirror— please, I want to look at myself!"

Retrieving a small hand mirror from a nearby table, the doctor held it up so Jenetta could examine her face through eyes still incapable of sharp focus.

"I don't think I look that much different," Jenetta said, puzzled. "Thinner certainly, but definitely not ten years older."

"The gas in a stasis chamber enters your bloodstream quickly, and spreads to every part of your body. Within an hour of beginning the process, your heart is pumping just twice each minute and your body's metabolic rate has been reduced to near death. You've really only aged about three months and five days so you shouldn't see any real differences, apart from a noticeably dehydrated appearance. The debilitated condition resulting from the non-use of muscles and other bodily functions will disappear as we rebuild your muscles over the next few weeks." The doctor lowered the mirror and placed it on the table beside the bed. "The brain is least affected, and so recovers first, along with heart and respiration. Next will be your voice, as you see, and digestion."

"I feel so weak," Jenetta said. "Like a newborn; not someone who's been asleep for only three months."

"That's because it wasn't normal sleep. A sleeping person will tense and relax their muscles throughout much of the sleep cycle. That simple isometric activity keeps them from experiencing the effects that
total
non-use brings about. Spacers traveling long distances usually limit each stasis sleep to no more than one year, with adequate time to fully recuperate between sleeps. Six months has proven to be the optimum for long distance freighter operations because the sleeper will only require a single day to achieve a ninety percent recovery. With an accelerated exercise program, he or she can go back into stasis after achieving full recovery within a week. But it will take weeks of rehabilitation effort for
your
musculature to return to a normal level, and possibly months to bring it to the point where you were when you entered the stasis chamber. That will depend on your exercise regimen, of course. As a military officer, I assume that exercise was a normal part of your everyday routine. The sooner you slip back into that habit, the sooner you'll be back in prime condition."

"Thank you, Doctor, I understand. Has Space Command been informed that I've been picked up?"

"I'm afraid you'll have to speak to the Captain about
that
."

"I understand. When can I see him?"

Glancing at the chrono-patch on her left wrist, Doctor Erikson said, "Not for at least seven more hours. He goes to bed at 2200 hours and doesn't come on duty until 0600." Smiling, she added, "Between those hours he'll skin anyone who disturbs him, unless it's an emergency."

Not much thicker than a transfer tattoo, and just as flexible, a chrono-patch is powered by a harmless chemical reaction produced when it comes into contact with human skin. It doesn't have timekeeping functions, and merely displays the GST date and time being broadcast throughout the ship. The disposable waterproof patches can last several days before needing replacement, but are usually replaced daily using a simple roll-on applicator.

"I didn't realize the hour. Well, I was stuck in that pod for almost eleven years so I guess I can wait a few more hours."

"By now your body should be accustomed to the muscle stimulation current; at least enough so that you can sleep while it continues. You should also be feeling generally fatigued from the autonomic muscle responses. Since you have your voice back, I won't need to have someone assigned to stay with you during the night. The computer will keep watch over you and alert me if you call ‘Doctor, doctor', or if any of your vital signs vary outside of normal parameters. I'll be sleeping on the day-bed in my office if you need me."

"Thank you, Doctor. Can your computer distinguish between sleep and consciousness in case I call out in my sleep? I don't wish to disturb you unnecessarily."

"Yes, the sick bay medical interface will be monitoring you completely, so it will know if you're dreaming or awake. Now take another good healthy swig of this
wonderfully
delicious concoction I whipped up and then try to get some rest."

After swallowing as much of the cool briny liquid as she could force down, Jenetta said, "Thank you, Doctor. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Ensign."

Jenetta awoke feeling substantially better than she had the first day. She used her hand to gently rub the sleep from her eyes before remembering that yesterday she couldn't even raise her arm. When she did remember, she was startled to see her hand in front of her face. She tried to squeeze her nose, but found that she didn't yet have the strength to grip it tightly. "No matter," she said lightly to herself. Her strength was definitely increasing, and the doctor had provided a timetable for its return.

As she glanced around the sickbay, everything jumped immediately into sharp focus and she espied her framed picture standing on a counter against the wall. She hoped that her family was still intact and that everyone was healthy. Eleven years is a tremendously long time and a lot might have happened. Doctor Erikson entered the ward with a cheerful smile on her face while Jenetta was still lost in thought.

"Good morning, Ensign. The computer informed me you were awake. Did you have a good sleep?"

"Good morning, Doctor," Jenetta said, with dramatically improved enunciation. "I slept very well, and feel much better, thank you. Look, I can move my arm already."

The surprise was evident on Doctor Erikson's face as Jenetta held up her right arm and wiggled her fingers. "That's remarkable. You seem to be way ahead of the projected timetable for recovery. They're going to have to rewrite the manuals once I report your progress."

"Speaking of reporting, would it be possible to see the Captain now?"

"I'll tell him you're awake. He inquired about you several hours ago."

"Several hours ago? What time is it?"

Glancing at her wrist, the doctor said, "It's now 1638 hours, Galactic System Time."

Clearly dismayed, Jenetta said, "1638? I slept seventeen hours?"

"You needed it. Your body is trying to recover."

"But all I've done for the past ten and a half years is sleep."

Doctor Erikson chuckled. "That wasn't normal sleep. That was stasis sleep. The
only
similarity between the two is that you're unconscious. You don't even have dream activity and REM while in stasis because there's limited brain activity."

"Still, it
seems
like I'm sleeping my life away. I want to get up and do something. Anything."

"You will, but first your body has to recover. We're going to start pumping you full of liquids today, and we'll have you sitting up soon at the rate you're recuperating."

"I hope so. Uh, Doctor, could you move my picture over to the table by my bed."

"Of course," the doctor said, fetching the framed image.

The 20x30 centimeter black anodized aluminum frame with a thin decorative line of gold around the front edge contained an animated photograph of seven smiling people; two women and five men. A man, wearing the muted black dress uniform of a Space Command captain, and a patrician woman, wearing a simple light-blue sheath, sat on a curved stone bench in an outdoor park of some sort, while five younger people, none much older than a teenager, arrayed behind them. A meek wind ruffled the heavily leaved bushes in the background and mildly tousled the hair of the men and women. The four younger men, all obviously quite tall, wore the grey uniforms of Space Command Academy cadets. Standing shoulder to shoulder, each had his arms on the back of the men next to him. At the rightmost side of the back row stood the young woman presently resting on the sickbay bed, as she had appeared in her mid-teens. She seemed tiny and insignificant, standing there next to the tall, handsome young men. The doctor noted a remarkable resemblance between the teenage girl and the older woman on the bench. For that matter, there was also a close familial resemblance between the young men and the older man on the bench.

The composition of the image seemed a bit odd to the doctor. Normally, a photographer would have attempted to balance the image by putting the young woman in the center of the back row. Wearing a civilian jacket and slacks outfit, and placed by herself off to one side, one could almost get the impression that she was being excluded from the group. At least the young man standing next to the girl put his left hand on her right shoulder halfway through the images. The picture played for thirty-seconds and then morphed to the opening frame and began to play again.

"Your family?" Dr. Erickson asked as she placed the framed image on the bedside table and faced it so that Jenetta could see it.

"Yes."

"I thought so, from the way you were clutching it in the stasis bed." Smiling she added, "I thought that I'd have to call for one of the cargo handlers to pry it from your hands."

"That picture was taken on the day my oldest brother, Billy, graduated from the Academy. That's him in the center," she said, pointing, "with Andy and Jimmy on the left, and Richie next to me. It was the last time that we were all together. It's the only thing that I had time to grab when the red alert sounded; but as long as I have that, I don't really care about the other things." Looking at the picture, Jenetta paused for a second, then added, "It's funny..."

"What is?" the doctor asked, wondering if the young woman was going to comment on the composition of the image.

"All my life I've only wanted to get into space, but right now all I can seem to think of is my family, and returning to Earth so I can see them and hug them all again."

"That's entirely natural, after what you've been through. I'm sure that Space Command will arrange for a long survivor's furlough once you report in."

"I hope so."

Smiling again, the doctor said, "I'll go call the Captain. Oh— don't go anywhere."

Jenetta smiled politely at the intentionally preposterous remark. She certainly wasn't going anywhere under her own power today.

Chapter Six

~ June 7
^th
, 2267 ~

Captain Lentz didn't make it down to the sickbay until after his watch ended at 1800. Jenetta had finished eating a late breakfast of mostly liquids with a few pureed items by the time he arrived. She looked up as the door opened and watched as the captain strode in confidently.

"Welcome aboard the Vordoth, Ensign," he said as he approached the bed where she lay. "You've been adrift out here for a long time."

Now in his mid to late fifties, the captain's head was still covered with the short, dense, light-brown hair of his youth. While there was no excessive fat on his five-foot ten-inch frame, he was getting a little soft around the middle. Probably weighing about a hundred and eighty pounds, he had a deeply resonant voice and a face filled with character. Without knowing anything about his background, Jenetta's first guess would have to be that he'd worked his way up through the ranks of the merchant service, rather than having received his master's papers after completing the educational requirements at one of the many fine, accredited spacefaring trade schools on Earth or another planet in the Galactic Alliance.

"Thank you for rescuing me, Captain," Jenetta said as she activated the control that would raise the top part of the bed. She wanted to be sitting up as much as possible for the conversation, and she was unable to do it on her own.

"You're most welcome. It was just dumb luck that your pod happened to be on a collision course with our ship, or we might never have spotted you. If you had been more than ten thousand kilometers ahead or back from your actual position, we'd have passed you by at forty-five-million kilometers a second without even knowing you were there. Your emergency beacon was all but dead, and in a few more months it probably wouldn't have been sending at all. We're so far out of the normal shipping lanes that you might never have been recovered." In a flattering manner, he added, "I certainly never expected to find a gorgeous blonde floating around out here."

Jenetta blushed slightly, but otherwise didn't acknowledge what she considered to be a flirtatious remark. She'd never been coquettish. "Have you notified Space Command that you picked me up, sir?"

"No, we haven't. We can't break radio silence for another month."

"Excuse me? Radio silence?" Jenetta said, with a puzzled expression on her face.

"Of course. We've been ordered to maintain strict radio silence while in this area of space. Oh, I forgot," the captain said, as he recalled the length of time Jenetta had spent in the escape pod, "you wouldn't know because you've been asleep for ten years." Lentz took a step closer to the sickbay bed and lowered his voice as if he feared being overheard. "For the past eight years, this region of space has been plagued by space Raiders. Emergency calls for help go out, but when rescue ships arrive weeks or months later, there's nothing left except some minor wreckage to show a ship was attacked. It's like the time of pirates on Earth in the 17
^th
and 18
^th
centuries. Back then the ships were left to sink out of sight if they were too badly damaged to salvage, with the only evidence of the attack being whatever floated off their decks. Here, the entire ship and crew are just— gone, with only minor wreckage and debris left behind to show that something might have occurred. So far Space Command hasn't been able to find where the Raiders come from or return to. That's why we're so far out of the normal shipping lanes. I selected this course in the hope that we can avoid an encounter with them."

"And if we can't?"

"Then we run. Or, as a last resort, we fight."

"Fight? Do we have an escort, sir?"

"No," Lentz said angrily. "There wasn't another convoy leaving for our destination for four months and the company ordered us to depart as soon as possible. All hands are volunteers, receiving double pay, and, as I've said, we're following an unusual course."

"So how do you fight when you can't run?"

"We have phased array lasers mounted every half kilometer along the entire length of the cargo section."

"This ship is armed? But that's a violation of Galactic Alliance law. No merchant or privately owned vessel can mount exterior weapons."

"That
was
the law, a decade ago. It was suspended when Space Command finally acknowledged that it was unable to protect freight and passenger traffic."

"I see," Jenetta said, nodding her head slightly. "Uh, what's the size of this— Raider fleet?"

"No one knows. We do know that they can be found in every part of Galactic Alliance space. And diplomatic missions to other territories have reported hearing of attacks as far away as two thousand light years beyond our borders. The organization must be massive. Estimates of more than a thousand Raider warships have been made by Space Command Supreme HQ."

"A thousand warships?!" Jenetta said, her eyes opening wide. "That's five times larger than Space Command! If this group is so big, why have we never heard of them before? They couldn't have grown so large in just ten years."

"The generally accepted theory is that a dozen large crime syndicates combined to form the nucleus of the Raider organization about twelve years ago. They then enticed all the smaller organizations to join them using a rather effective ‘join or die' proposal, and incorporated them into their own enormous operation. Their intelligence network is incredible. They seem to know the departure time and flight path of every ship in GA space. When the organization grew so huge that they could no longer cling to any hope of anonymity, they apparently decided to make themselves so powerful that even Space Command couldn't stop them. It's worked. Space Command has had its budget increased in each of the past ten years, and currently has over three hundred warships in their fleet, ranging from light destroyers to battleships, but the Raiders have proven themselves to be far too much for them to control. And their organization seems to get larger, more powerful, and bolder, every year."

"This is all too incredible," Jenetta said, looking away while she shook her head a couple of times. Looking back to Lentz, she added, "When I climbed into the stasis chamber, the principal concern of a freighter or passenger liner was the danger from its own power systems, or impact with another ship or object in space. It's like I've awakened in another galaxy; a galaxy unknown to me." Jenetta paused momentarily to take a deep breath. "How long will this ship be in danger, sir?"

"We've been traveling in Raider controlled space for several days now, but we're back up to our top speed of Light-150 again, and with any luck we'll pass beyond the Belagresue system in four months. There haven't been any attacks beyond that point, so once we get there we'll be able to notify Space Command that you're on board. Then it's just another month to Vinnia, our final destination. In addition to being the major freight hub in this part of the galaxy, it's also the home of the largest Space Command base in the deca-sector."

"That will be great. Thank you, Captain."

"You're welcome, Ensign. By the way, the doctor tells me that you're the new galactic record holder for survival in a stasis chamber. We'll have to notify the folks at Guinness Galactic when we reach Vinnia."

"It's a distinction that I could happily have lived without, sir. Do you know anything about my ship, the Hokyuu?"

"Just what I read in the news dispatches. Lost in 2256, cause was eventually blamed on a flawed vacuum restrictor in the anti-matter flow. All hands were recovered except one." Lentz paused and smiled. "Correction, all hands have been recovered. Hokyuu is a funny name for a supply ship. Someone must have had a belly laugh over that one."

"What do you mean, sir?"

"I'm pretty sure that Hokyuu means supply in Japanese. So that made you a crewmember of the supply ship ‘Supply.'" He chuckled to himself. "As soon as you're fit, I'll arrange a ship's tour, if you wish it?"

"I'd like that very much," Jenetta said smiling.

"Okay, you've got it. I'll see you when you're better."

"Goodnight, Captain."

Jenetta lowered the mattress so that her head was elevated barely higher than her feet, and relaxed as she considered all the implications of what she had just heard. It seemed impossible that Space Command could have lost control of the territory the way that Captain Lenz had said, but for now she would accept that it was true. And the utter vastness of GA space might make it impossible for Space Command to ever regain control if they couldn't locate the bases from which the Raiders operated.

* * *

In two more days, Jenetta was sitting up in bed, and in four she took her first steps, with the aid of a walker frame to help support her weight while her legs strengthened. She fell a number of times as she pushed her recovery along at a faster rate than might appear judicious, and always refused assistance from the doctor in getting back on her feet.

In seven days she was walking without the walker's support, although some might have described it more as lurching, and in eleven days she jogged, albeit slowly, for the first time since leaving the Hokyuu. Each step on the road of physical recovery was accompanied by great pain as atrophied muscles were stretched, flexed, twisted, and strengthened. Jenetta consistently pushed herself to the limits of her endurance and beyond.

On the twelfth day following her rescue, Jenetta was officially released from the sickbay and assigned quarters on the bridge deck. Of the eight staterooms located in that section, only four were occupied. Having four to choose from, she selected the one closest to the occupied rooms without even looking at the others.

Painted in the same neutral, off-white color as her room aboard the Hokyuu, as were the crew quarters in most of the Space Command fleet, her new quarters were spacious and comfortable. Where her quarters aboard the Hokyuu had consisted of a tiny bedroom and miniscule bath, her new quarters were almost the size of the bedroom and bath she'd had at her parent's home on Earth. And she had a moderately-sized sitting room of her own as well. She felt like she had just been promoted to Lt. Commander.

Jenetta's GSC uniform had been found in the pod following her recovery. Taken to the Vordoth's supply room, it was scanned by the ship's tailoring computer and the data stored. New clothing was then prepared, including four new uniform tunics bearing a narrow gold bar on each epaulet, still the standard rank insignia of an ensign. Made from a comfortable stretchy fabric comparable to the one used by Space Command, the white blouses fit perfectly, or at least would once she filled out a little. The hip-length tunics and trousers, made from a muted-black synthetic fabric almost identical to that used by Space Command, were nearly impossible to distinguish from original SC issue without a close-up inspection. The sixteen brass buttons on each tunic, representing the sixteen planets who were signatories of the original Galactic Alliance Articles, provided the only indication that the uniforms were not military issue. And one had to closely examine the two rows of bas-relief buttons on the front of each new tunic to even recognize the difference. Since the tailoring computer didn't have the proper die setups to stamp out the strictly decorative adornments with the Space Command logo, the merchant services logo had been used. The number of buttons also immediately distinguished her uniforms from those of the Merchant Service officers on board because their tunics included just a single row of six functional buttons. After cleaning, her Space Command issued uniform was placed into an airtight garment bag, to be saved for use when she left the ship. It was her intention to be in ‘proper' uniform when she reported back for duty.

* * *

At 0545 the following morning, Jenetta took breakfast in the officer's mess for the first time, completing her return to a diet of mainly solid foods. A single white-laminate table, capable of seating twelve officers, occupied the center of the spotlessly clean room. If you weren't awake before entering the large white wardroom, you certainly would be afterwards. The overpowering brightness reflecting off the white laminate walls seemed powerful enough to force itself in through one's pores.

The officer's mess attendant, who identified himself as Anthony, informed her that the first officer was still on duty and that the captain rarely ate breakfast. Jenetta smiled and requested orange juice, corn flakes with milk, sugar, and strawberry or banana slices, and a mug of coffee.

Gaunt in the extreme, Anthony didn't much look like your typical mess attendant, but the five-foot seven-inch young man with sandy hair knew his business and his way around his mess kitchen. He brought the juice and coffee first, and Jenetta hadn't even finished her first cup of Colombian before Anthony produced a large bowl of corn flakes with both strawberry
and
banana slices. Of course the fruit was synthesized, and so had the usual wafer-like appearance, but it was the right color, had the proper texture, and most importantly it tasted like the real thing.

At 0608 the first officer, Lieutenant Gloria Sabella, who had been relieved by the captain at 0600 hours, stopped into the mess for a light breakfast. She extended her hand across the table as she said, "Good morning, Ensign, and welcome aboard. It's good to see you up and about. Doc tells me that you're making remarkable progress with your recovery."

Jenetta stood and shook the proffered hand, saying, "Thank you, ma'am. I'm very happy to be aboard, and it's good to be almost fit again."

"You can drop the ‘ma'am.' We may wear uniforms similar to Space Command's, but we're a lot more informal in the merchant service than you military folks. Call me Gloria. Only the captain is
always
referred to by rank. The Doctor answers to Doctor, Doc, or Rebecca, rather than Lieutenant Commander, and the chief engineer would probably slug me if I called him Lieutenant." With a wide smile and a definite twinkle in her eyes, she added, "He prefers Charley."

Jenetta liked the five-foot nine-inch brunette immediately. Gloria had an athletically trim body, an easy way of carrying herself, and a wonderful smile. It was her smile that made her average face glow, motivating people to redefine their initial impression of her to ‘pretty.' She estimated Gloria's age at between thirty and thirty-two, just a little younger than her own real age, but she couldn't know if Gloria had undergone any stasis sleeps. She just chuckled and said, "Thanks. Call me Jen."