Penance (RN: Book 2) (9 page)

Peters grinned like a complacent fool as he flipped open the cap to the reservoir and dropped a handful of oily nuts and bolts into the super-refined liquid contaminating it to an unknown degree. The level of the liquid rose to the full mark again.

“See, Cap, it’s all good,” Levre grinned rapping his hands on Peters back like he were a drum.

Avery’s conscience gave a twinge as he considered how many nuts and bolts now added their bulk to the remaining liquid. This couldn’t continue. Sooner or later they would drain the system entirely and then there would be all hell to pay. And God knows what would happen if they ever decided to use the LAW.

Peters lifted a small device consisting of a heating element and a spiral of copper tube from out of the shadowed recess. He unclipped a container and attached the new one in its place before replacing the device.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. That’s the stuff,” Levre said rubbing his hands together in anticipation. Peters held the container toward him only for Levre cry out, his eyes widening to the point of popping from his head when Avery intercepted it.

“This is it. No more!” Avery said brandishing the container in his left hand.

“What!” cried Levre in astonishment. He glanced at Peters who appeared just as distraught as he was. “Cap, you can’t do this. I need my medicine to sleep at night, and to help me with the ladies,” he jiggled his eye brows and grinned comically at Peters who grinned in return.

“No!” Avery said. Both men’s faces dropped. “Peters, disconnect the other container and pour it back into the reservoir.” Except for him and Levre glancing at each other with a confused expression, Peters never moved. Avery took a step toward the flustered Peters who tried to step away only to come up against the bulkhead. “Return it now, Mr Peters,” Avery said, his countenance low and dark.

Peters moved reluctantly as he unhooked the container and opened the reservoir, he lifted the container to pour the fluid back only for Levre’s restraining hand to stop him. Levre had a look of hostile stupidity in his protuberant eyes as he shook his head and moaned a low no. Avery’s steel fist drove into the waste of flesh and bone Levre considered a chest, and the big man slammed against the bulkhead and dropped to all fours, his eyes like golf balls and his mouth open as if to vomit. It was several seconds before he sucked in a large choking breath with his thin frame shuddering from the exertion. He remained on his knees as Avery nodded to Peters who returned the liquid and snapped the reservoir shut.

Avery stepped forward and lifted the panting Levre’s head from under the chin with two fingers. “Now,” he said in his usual calm insurmountable voice as he looked between them. “You know I can’t change the access code, but if I so much as catch a sound of any of you coming back here, for any reason. I’ll have you broke and dismissed the service. Then I’ll have you executed for sabotaging a King’s vessel,” he gave them a complacent smile of absolute assurance to which they never responded.

Avery drummed his fingers on the canister for them to see, “I’ll divide this one up and you can all come to me later for your portion. Understood!” He glanced between them. The sweaty faced Peters responded with a string of wide eyed nods, but the gasping Levre just looked at the floor with spittle dripping from his mouth.

“Good,” Avery said and turned to leave.

“This ain’t right, Cap,” Levre gasped from behind him. “This ain’t right. And I’m gonna have to talk to the man!”

Avery stopped in his tracks, his body stiff. He knew the man Levre referred to was Stain, but he couldn’t have this piece of shit threatening him with any type of recrimination. He turned to look at Levre who was still on all fours with his head bowed. He stepped forward quickly, bringing the container down on the base of Levre’s skull, dropping him as if he had been decapitated. Avery gazed at the tall man laying unconscious before him, and then glanced at Peters who had backed up as far as he could with a cold sweating fear about him.

“And you’re all to stay away from the female crew as well. Understood?” He gazed expectantly at Peters who responded with a series of wordless nods.

Avery eyed Peters for several seconds as he rapped his fingers on the container. “Hmm,” he said and then turned and left.

***

The bridge of the Bristol hummed with activity as engineering crews and off-watch personnel attended the damaged systems and restored displaced equipment.

“The majority of the damage was caused by the creature shaking us, as this dislodged equipment and stores all over the ship, with the associated crush injuries accounting for about half of the wounded.” Canthouse ran a finger down the screen of the tablet as he spoke.

“How many injured?” asked Denz, his arms folded across his chest as he watched a work crew cover the damaged main display with a white canvas cover and install the emergency projector.

“Well we were fortunate in that respect. The stability dampers took the brunt of it, though there was some leakage, but it’s mostly bumps and scrapes from falling equipment with a few crushed fingers and broken bones. Oh, and one smashed scapular from a displaced torpedo. Cummings you know about was the most serious head wound. She lost a lot of blood and the surgeon has no idea how she managed to stay at her station so long.”

“The medics should have sent her to the surgery.” Denz said in a gruff snap as he continued to observe the repairs.

“They tried, sir. I heard them tell her two or three times. She refused to go.”

“Hmph!” Denz said his face dark with ill temper. “What’s her condition?” The question was impassionate as he could make it.

Canthouse felt a low pity for his commander as even though Denz had made a brief unescorted tour of the surgery, he could do little more than give Cummings as much impersonal consideration as the next man. These people were cogs in a fighting machine, a machine he needed to repair and make whole again before he allowed himself any form of personal indulgence. It must have been murder on him not to have been able to reveal his personal interest and maybe spend a few moments with Cummings. Even if to just sit and hold her hand.

“She haemorrhaged a lot of blood from where she struck the right side of her head against the console. There was some splintering of the skull with fragments pushed in, but the surgeon said there was no penetration of the matter beneath, and he has successfully removed the debris and patched the area with ceramic. So it’ll be as good as new in a day or so –“

Denz gave Canthouse a sharp look, “Splintering of the skull!”

“Yes, sir. But there was no projection and the matter behind was undamaged,” Canthouse shifted uncomfortably. “There will be no ...no cognitive impairment, sir,” he said as delicately as possible.

Denz’s face became impassive as he searched for an appropriately neutral reply.“Good! She’s an excellent operations officer.”

“She is, sir.”

“Motive systems?”

Canthouse’s fingers swiped across the tablet screen. “Lieutenant Avery reports two of the drive rings in the gate engines are misaligned, though the engine is still capable of operating at a reduced capacity.”

“Particle engines?”

“Chemical engines are unaffected. However, there’s a reference to a monkey and a hammer that I’m not sure of.” The corner of Denz’s mouth turned up at this. His first sign of lightened mood since the attack. “The problem is the sub-light drive units. Keeping them at flank speed for so long damaged the coil insulation on one and four, and we’re limited to point six until they can be inspected.”

“Point six! That might be a problem.”

“I agree, sir. But the chief claims he has no option or we risk further damage.”

“Other systems?”

“There are a number of points, sir, but the main ones are the weapons systems are all online, with the rear magazines being replenished from stores. The chief reported an instrument problem with the LAW, and wants to submit a request to enter the sealed area to check the sensors.”

“Hmmm…” Denz mused considering the problem as he watched an unwitting low rank technician glance about him, and then use the palm of one hand to pound some resentful cabling back into place under a console so he could close the hatch. “The chief knows the rules as well as anybody. No entering the sealed area without a Koll engineer present, unless not doing so represents a catastrophic danger to the ship or crew. I’ll review the access request, but it must be sent through Lieutenant Avery as he has primary responsibility for these areas. What else?”

“Well,” Canthouse inclined his head and bit his lip as if reluctant to get to the next item. “Engineering group C has just finished their examination of the speculative armour, and has confirmed that generators seventeen and eighteen will need to be replaced. They also suspect a certain amount of splash damage along the generator chain, as the system overcompensated for the creatures attack, costing us the generators and the resulting crush damage to the hull. The generators are being replaced with our only two spares, and we can’t check if speculative armour has been weakened a whole until they’re installed.”

“Time to repair?”

“Nine hours.”

“Hmm,” Denz watched as the flickering test frames of the emergency projector illuminated the canvas screen. The image of the green cloud appeared momentarily, before being replaced by a blank white image.

“Status of the cloud? Has there been any activity?”

“The cloud. That’s a strange thing there, sir,” Canthouse said pointing to an image of the green mist on his tablet. “It’s not expanding anymore, or at least there’s no turbulent projection indicating continued growth. And I believe the thinning of the edges may indicate the first signs of dispersion.” Canthouse gave the tablet a tight lipped considering thought.

“No other ...activity?”

“Nothing, sir. No projections or visitations of any sort. I believe with the evaporation of the cloud the entities may have returned to where they came from.”

“That’s one thing I guess, but I’m still curious to know where that was.”

“We can always turn around and take another look.”

Denz side glanced at his XO and raised his eye brows in an,
oh really,
expression. ”When can we gate out?”

“Immediately. Though the spin up time will be extended due to the damaged rings.”

Denz nodded as he considered Canthouse’s advice. “Set a course for the search path as we’ll need to continue the sweep for the Governor’s shuttle. We’ll also need to ...,” Denz’s voice trailed off as he looked at the navigator running through the test sequence on his console. “What about what’s his name ...Feathers?”

“He’s still confined to his cabin, sir, and still complaining of chest pains even though the surgeon has treated him and reports his three cracked ribs will heal without problems. I haven’t had time to deal with him yet, but I will get around to it when duties permit.”

“Make sure you do!” Denz said with a persecuting look and an accusing finger wagging at the navigator’s position. “I won’t have entitled little shits like him coming the prima donna because we’re limited by our choice of people for deep service crew.”

“Of course, sir,” Canthouse said in an officious voice. Though he didn’t show it, he was a little disappointed at Den’s ill consideration of Feathers, who, after all, had done nothing more serious than rest on his console after receiving a blow sufficient to crack three ribs and cause substantial internal bruising. He hoped his commanding officer was not using Feathers as a convenient anger sink, where he could dump his frustrations over Cummings near bleeding to death at her post when Feathers appeared to be sleeping. If Cummings had not demonstrated such petulant bravado in staying at her post whilst near death, none of this would be an issue.

“Very well,” Denz said looking about the continuing repairs. “Move us out of here at best speed and continue the sweep. Gather all the telemetry you can enroute, but let’s not dawdle.

“Yes, sir.” Canthouse responded.

Denz looked his first officer over. The normal good natured expression was haggard and drawn, the eyes deep set and dark with the attentive stance now a weary shoulder sagging slouch from lack of sleep and burden of work. “Malcolm, when was the last time you ate anything?”

Canthouse produced something of a constrained smile that bore an immense weariness; he knew what was coming next. “Before Lieutenant Avery’s shift, sir, but I’m –“

“That was more than sixteen hours ago!” Dens said with a look of severe disaproval. “I’d like you to leave the bridge in Mr Strawden’s capable hands and grab a quick breakfast.”

“Sir, there’s simply too much work to do. I’d prefer to eat when I’m relieved by Lieutenant Avery at oh eight thirty.”

“Do I sense mutiny, Lieutenant-Commander? Do I need to give orders to my first officer to eat?”

“Of course not, sir.”Canthouse lowered his gaze to the tablet, his look an acknowledgement of his commander’s authority.

Denz placed a hand on the first officer’s shoulder in companionable concern, “Malcolm, you’re no good to the ship if you collapse from fatigue. Now, look, I’ll be going to eat after I tour the ship in, let me see ...” Denz angled his old analogue wristwatch to catch the light, “Join me in the mess at oh five thirty for breakfast. After which we’ll have a staff meeting to work out what the hell just happened.”