Chapter Four - Dana
With less than eight hours remaining until contact with Remnant, Dana Cirefe decided that their hostage…no, their reluctant assistant, would need food and perhaps an explanation. She hadn’t seen MacLeash for several hours and, despite his promises, knew the alcohol was flowing in his cabin.
Leaving Cardiff under computer guidance and monitoring, she moved down the passageway and heard the faint strains of Miles Davis coming from MacLeash’s cabin. That was a good sign. If MacLeash descended into the real blues, at least what he described endlessly to her as “real blues,” the whisky started flowing. Usually he’d drink to unconsciousness during transits and then magically be ready to fly at capture and perform like no other captain she’d ever known. The man lived for his work, but a captain’s life was boring. The flying was mostly done by computer, and the constant need for maintenance fell to the crew—her. Not that she minded. Cardiff was a fit ship, and it kept her busy and kept MacLeash in a drunken stupor except when she needed him. The relationship, in her eyes, was perfect.
In the galley, she quickly reviewed the foodstuffs and began piecing together a meal for their hostage. The smell of spices, the ones from Catalonia, made her smile and remember her grandmother’s rustic kitchen. On Sundays, she and her entire family would go there for dinner after Mass. Her grandmother always had her help make the sauces. By the age of twelve, she was a competent cook. When her grandmother died, Dana took on the dinner preparations. More than a few people suggested that she enter culinary school, but her eyes were focused on the stars. Cooking aboard ship was her tie to Earth, and she relished the opportunity. The smells rising from the galley might stir MacLeash, so she made sure there were portions enough for all of them, but Paul Normandy was the focus.
She settled on freeze-dried Catalan mushrooms with garlic and fresh parsley, crispy chicken with a touch of lemon, fresh thyme, rosemary, and a bit of sage she’d managed to save. She planned to raid her private stash of wine and provide a nice tempranillo to accompany the meal for their hostage. Earn a man’s trust through his stomach, as her grandmother would say. She began preparing the frozen chicken first, and while it defrosted, turned her attention to the mushrooms and spices. Knife in hand, she deftly chopped the spices with a speed and dexterity rivaling the great chefs. Cooking was an escape for her, a time to relax and be herself, and not focus on the wellbeing of the ship and the lining of her pockets. One day, she could see herself on the beaches north of Barcelona in a small restaurant. But those dreams required money, and she was nearly where she needed to be. Even if she had to put up with MacLeash’s worst, he was still the best in the business. Her bank accounts grew every month, and the decision to sign on with him for a three-year tour had paid for itself.
She trimmed the fat from the chicken and smiled. There were six months left on her contract, and in one of his few moments of clarity during their last transit back up to Luna, MacLeash had come to the bridge carrying two glasses of wine and a plate of cheese. The look on his face gave away that the bribe was not another misguided attempt to bed her.
“To what do I owe this?” She smiled up at him. Built like a lumberjack, tall and strong, he looked soft in his coveralls. His dark hair and beard were moderately under control.
MacLeash handed her a glass of wine and set the plate on the console between her and the unused secondary console, where he sat and leaned back in the chair. “A discussion.” They touched glasses, and Dana immediately understood.
“My contract?”
MacLeash nodded. His bright blue eyes stared at her intently for a moment, like unblinking camera lenses. “It’s time to discuss terms, Miss Cirefe.” He chuckled, which Dana returned. His mock seriousness was something between charming and frightening.
Dana sipped the wine and tried not to wince at the cheap California vintage that was somewhere between cabernet sauvignon and cow piss, and smiled. “I take it my performance has been satisfactory, Captain?”
MacLeash laughed, a booming sound that startled Dana anew. She knew the man was never in a jovial mood without either significant pre-lubrication with whiskey or an ulterior motive that was near malicious. He stopped laughing, and the temperature in the room dropped twenty degrees as he stared at her. “Let’s cut the shit, shall we? You have six months left on this contract, and you’re not worth forty percent of every haul.”
Dana blinked. What? “I’m sorry? What did you say?”
“You’re not worth more than twenty percent per haul.”
“Really?” Dana asked. Her voice rose and she knew that this discussion was going to be anything but civil. Two and a half years of constant focus on keeping them alive edged into her words. “Two and a half years of keeping your drunk ass alive, and I’m not worth more than twenty percent? Bullshit.”
MacLeash leaned forward. “‘Drunk ass?’ Give me one example of a capture I fucked up because I was drunk.”
Dana shook her head. “You sober up for capture, Ian.”
“Never use my first name, bitch.”
“Fine, Captain,” Dana sneered. She turned to her console and tapped the keys while she spoke. “Captures and salvage operations are about twenty percent of our time, and you’re sober enough for them. But the rest of the time you’re drunk. Piss drunk. The other eighty percent of the time, when we’re flying around out here, you’ve missed fourteen possible conjunctions with debris large enough to kill us instantly. Fourteen! And you were passed out in your cabin for every one of those! Who drove the ship then? I did! Not the computer! I’ve saved your ship, and your life, constantly over the last two and a half years, and that’s not worth twenty percent? Fine, fuck you, Captain. I’ll offload at Luna.”
MacLeash shook his head. “You can’t quit without compensation, remember? I don’t think you can afford to separate from three million Euros.”
“And I don’t think you’d survive a week without me.”
MacLeash laughed and spread his hands to indicate the cockpit. “I’ve been flying this ship for nearly twenty years, Dana. I can do it without you.”
“No, you can’t, and every single contract we have will walk away when I do.”
“I’m the best in the salvage business!”
“When you’re sober. If we were constantly at capture, you’d be fine. Without me, or an AI protocol you can’t hope to afford, this ship wouldn’t survive its first transit with only you aboard.”
“I can hire someone else.” MacLeash’s smile began to lose intensity.
Dana leaned in. “Not when I file a grievance about the times you’ve threatened to assault me, the unwanted advances, the verbal abuse. And now this shitty threat to reduce my salary? No one will want to fly with you, and you know it.”
“You underestimate me.”
Dana laughed. “And you’re a fool. Spacers are superstitious, Captain. Every time we walk into port, I see how they look at you. Yeah, you’re successful, but in their eyes, you’re bad luck.”
MacLeash looked away, through the windows behind her, and she knew she had him. “Then why do you fly with me?”
Dana sipped her wine and tried to look relaxed. Sweetness counts, she thought. “Because you are the best, and because I love this ship as if it were my own. No one else can do what we can do. Look at the last two years! Fifteen million in contracts. Six million in pure revenue, and enough maintenance funds to upgrade just about every system on Cardiff. We can go bigger, Captain. You know that, and you know I deserve more than twenty percent.”
“That was a mistake.” MacLeash tried to smile. “You’re worth more than that to me, Dana.”
“Fifty percent,” Dana said and slowly crossed her legs. The man’s eyes followed on cue, and she knew she had him.
“On the next contract, yes,” MacLeash said. “If this contract goes well, we’ll discuss your employment when the time comes.”
“At the same rate or I walk, Ian.”
“Fine.” MacLeash grunted and smiled, but it was dark and troubling. “How far are we from Luna?”
“Twelve hours.”
“Good.” MacLeash stood, leaving his barely touched wine on the console. “When we get there, you’ll offload the cargo and take a few days liberty while I find us work. You can consider yourself hired for another three years. Fuck it up, and you’ll be out on your ass.”
We’ll see about that, she thought. She met his eyes. “Fine. Shall I wake you when we dock?”
MacLeash had said nothing as he stomped down the passageway. Dana turned to the windows, watched the approaching crescent of Luna, and grinned. Ten percent more was something to be happy about, but more importantly, she’d gone toe-to-toe with the man and won. He knew his place, and it was up to her to keep him there.
Only a few more months. She pushed the memory out of her head and focused on her immediate target.
With the chicken in the oven and the mushrooms cooking, Dana opened the bottle of tempranillo and let it breathe. Leaning against the pantry cabinet, she made a list of supplies to pick up after this mission was complete. Their need for spare parts was less, allowing her to buy the food and drink she wanted to keep aboard. Cooking and drinking provided a welcome distraction. She checked the timer and left the galley to grab a novel from her cabin. Turning out of the galley, the smell of whisky hit her nose an instant before her eyes met the bleary, drunken gaze of Ian MacLeash.
“Heather?” he slurred at her and tried to grab her hand.
Not again, she thought and shivered. The really bad drunks, the ones where he passed out and then woke believing his wife was still alive, scared her. “No, it’s Dana.”
“Heather,” he said with a drunken smile. “Let’s go back to the cabin and make a baby.”
Dana side-stepped him. “I’m Dana. Dana! Go sleep it off, Captain.”
He grabbed her by the throat and slammed her into the bulkhead. “You’re not hearing me, baby.” He positioned himself so that a kick to his crotch wouldn’t work to dissuade him. So Dana pulled up her foot, withdrew the folding knife from her boot, and flicked it open.
Pressing the blade against his cheek, she screamed, “Get the fuck off me, Captain! Now!”
Recognition flickered in his eyes, then for a moment, confusion. How pitiful he is! His wife hadn’t deserved this kind of man, bless her soul. He let her go and stared as she pushed against him and stepped away. He didn’t feel her lift his security card.
“I’m...I’m sorry.”
Dana shook her head. “Go sleep it off.”
“Yeah,” MacLeash rumbled. “Smells good.”
“Thanks,” she said as she folded the knife but didn’t stow it. “I’ll save you some.”
“None for him.”
Dana shook her head. “Wrong. He needs to eat. It’s been days.”
“Don’t care.”
“Go sleep it off, Captain.” Dana crossed her arms. She stared at him wordlessly until he finally turned and slunk down the passageway. At his door, he looked at her once more and shook his head. He mumbled something she couldn’t make out, and went inside. Dana almost followed him, tempted to time lock his cabin door. She didn’t. She continued on to her cabin and retrieved her novel, though she no longer felt like reading.
When the food was done, Dana carried a tray with two plates, the bottle of wine, and two glasses to the cabin where Paul Normandy sat in shackles.
“What do you want?” The slight blond man looked up at her. A nice shiner bloomed around the man’s left eye, proof of his scuffle with MacLeash. Based on his size, he’d known he was hopelessly outmatched, but had fought anyway. This boded well for him and the mission.
“I brought you some food.” Dana smiled and set the tray on the table.
Paul’s eyes flitted from her to the tray. “Haven’t eaten in a few days. That dark-haired asshole only brings me water.”
“He won’t bother you anymore,” she said and walked over to the bed where he sat. “I’m going to unshackle you. Don’t try anything.”
He looked past her to the food and wine, and Dana was sure he was salivating. She undid the shackles from his feet. They went under the bed as Paul stood and walked to the table. He sat down and began to wolf his food. “This is delicious.”
Dana sat across from him and poured them wine. “My name is Dana.”
“Paul,” he said around the chicken leg in his mouth. He must have realized how silly it sounded, and how pathetic he looked, because he slowed down, wiped his hands on a cloth napkin, and shook his head. A smile crept onto his flushed face.
“Something wrong?” Dana asked.
“Realized I probably looked like a starving cannibal or something,” Paul said. “This really is delicious.”
Dana nodded. “I’m glad you like it.” Through the open cabin door, she heard MacLeash’s cabin door open again. She turned her chair a bit to face the doorway and smoothed back a stray lock of hair from her forehead. “It’s a Catalonian recipe.”
“Catalonian? Like Spain?”
Dana smiled. “The northeastern region, yes; that’s where I’m from.”
“And you’re here working for that asshole who dragged me out of a bar, punched me in the face, and then chained me to a bunk aboard a ship with no explanation whatsoever.” Paul shook his head and stabbed a mushroom with his fork. “Is that what you’re here for? To ply me with food and wine and tell me the deal?” He smiled after a moment, and Dana realized the trace of venom there was just that, a trace.
“We’ll talk about that, Paul,” she said. “Tell me about yourself first. What do you do?”
Paul shrugged. “I’m a reactor technician on Luna.”
“Dangerous work. I bet it was expensive to learn, was it not?”
“Yeah.” Paul smiled. “Had a scholarship to Cal Tech, graduated summa cum laude from there, went to Stanford for my master’s, and MIT for a doctorate.”
“So you’re Doctor Normandy.” Dana smiled at him. “That sounds better than Paul. May I call you Doc?”
Paul looked at her for a moment and matched her smile. “No. Paul is just fine until you tell me what’s going on.”
“Fair enough.” She tilted her head at the wall and sipped her wine for a moment. “You’re aboard Cardiff, an orbital salvage ship. Let’s see if you can put the rest of the pieces together.”
Paul chewed for a moment, never looking away from her. “You’ve got a radiation leak onboard.”
“Nice try. No.”
He thought for a moment. “You want me to build you a nuclear engine, then?”
Dana shook her head and answered, “Orbital salvage.”
“There’s nothing up here with a nuclear engine, except some of those probes from the dark ages, which have already passed through the heliopause. Or something from the 1950s that was never declassified,” Paul said. Dana said nothing. Gradually, Paul’s countenance changed from certainty to disbelief. “That’s what you’ve got, isn’t it?”
“Poignantly put,” Dana said. “Yes, only one of its kind, and you’re going to help us salvage it in one piece.”
“How big is it?” Paul asked. “I mean, will it fit?”
Dana nodded. “This is a very large ship, Paul.”
“Sorry, I haven’t seen very much of it.” He looked away for a moment and took another bite of mushroom. “This engine thing. If the ship is big enough, just store the whole thing. It’s probably worth more in one piece than scavenged.”
Dana shook her head. “It’s not what the captain wants.”
“So much for you being in charge.” Paul chuckled. “I really had hopes.”
“What the captain says, goes, Paul. You’re here to examine the engine, ensure that it both works and is safe, and then you’ll disassemble it for auction to the highest bidder.”
“Ultimatums? My, how clichéd!” Paul chuckled. “I suppose I do this or your captain will beat me senseless again, is that right?”
“No.” Dana sipped her wine. “Do it or I throw your skinny ass out the airlock right now. Nobody’s looking for you yet. You know how it is on Luna, right? When you didn’t show up for work the next morning, what would your company have done?”
Paul wiped his face and sighed. His shoulders slumped forward a bit. “Likely nothing. People stop going to the reactors all the time. Afraid of being sterile and all that bullshit.”
“You can’t get sterilized by radiation?” Dana asked.
“You can if you’re a real idiot and don’t take your meds or wear protective gear. No one is that stupid.” Paul sat back and reached for the wine glass. He took a long sip and looked at her for a moment. “What do you stand to make on it?”
“What?”
“Your contract to recover this satellite,” Paul said. “I want in on it.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“The hell it’s not. All I have to do is make a report to Fleet. Kidnapping, assault, aiding and abetting, and that’s just for starters, Dana. Your boss dragged me into this. If you don’t want a fight, then I’m in. I’ve lost my job by now, and that means I’ll lose company housing. I have no place to live, and all my shit will be in boxes, so this is my only option. I’ll come into this of my own volition for a piece of the contract.”
Dana exhaled slowly through her nose. “I suppose we could do five percent.”
“Five percent of what?” Paul shook his head. “I want to know the exact figures we’re dealing with here.”
“Then I make it three percent.” Dana stared at him.
“I can’t go into this blind.”
“You get three percent of the overall take, no personals. That’s the deal.”
Paul pointed to the shackles under the bed. “No more of those.”
“No,” Dana said. “Unless you make me use them.”
Paul shook his head and smiled. “Rather not. Why don’t you tell me why you’re here?”
“The money is good,”
“There has to be more to it than that,” he said. “This wine is really good, too. Spain?”
“Yes.”
“You’re no more than thirty, are you?” He took another sip of wine.
“Twenty-eight. You?”
“Thirty-two,” Paul said. “There’s more to this than money, Dana. You don’t seem like the type to be out here pirating the belts.”
Dana shook her head. “It’s not piracy; we’re a legitimate business operation.” The run-of-the-mill citizens of the world and Luna didn’t understand. Knowing that MacLeash was standing at the doorway listening to them, she launched into the party line. “There are millions of pieces of debris out here. We pick them up and return them to investors and collectors. Everything we pick up is for a purpose.”
“Even me?” Paul stared at her. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, you’re right. You do have a purpose, Paul. You’re in for three percent, after all,” Dana said. She leaned over and topped off their glasses. “I’ll get you the information we have about the target. We’re going to need you involved in this more than you think. Ever worn a hardsuit?”
“EVA?” Paul looked shocked. “Hell, no. Never been outside, never going outside.”
“Why not?” Dana asked. “You’re just as likely to die in a spacecraft as in a spacesuit. You’re just another object out there.”
“That’s my point.” Paul shrugged and took his wine glass, cocking it toward her in a toast but without actually touching her glass. “We’re plowing through the most dangerous areas of space with a few feet of titanium alloy between us and death. I’ll take being on Luna as my biggest risk in spaceflight.”
“Not anymore,” Dana said. The conversation waned as they ate, occasionally making eye contact and talking about their meal, but nothing more. He complemented the spices and her preparation effusively, almost embarrassing her in the process. She looked him over, thinking he was good looking enough to be attached. Curiosity won over discretion; there were things spacers didn’t care to discuss.
“You have a family? Anyone waiting for you?”
Paul looked bleak. “Wife, two children on Earth. They live in Johannesburg. You?”
Dana shook her head. “Just my parents in Spain. Life out here takes the place of companionship.”
“That hard, huh?”
Dana shook her head. “You have no idea, Paul.”
“I’m sure I’ll learn about it. So, you’re planning on salvaging a first-generation nuclear engine of some type. I’m betting something from the 1950s or ‘60s—something volatile. We’d be better off leaving the engine out here by itself.”
“Not an option. The engine has to be recovered.” Dana shrugged. “Stipulation of the contract. We’re bringing in the whole bird, between two ships.”
“Two?”
“Remnant is on its way to the target as well. As big as us, a little more cargo hold, with a crew of two. Just like us, except they have a protocol aboard.”
“Protocol? As in artificial intelligence?”
Dana nodded. “If you can call it that, yes. The captain of their ship stole it years ago. Nobody wants to try and get it back.”
“I thought they were valuable?”
“They are, but only with sufficient control mechanisms. This one has none. I’m not sure how they’ve managed to survive this long.” Dana heard MacLeash shuffling back toward his cabin and breathed a sigh of relief. The web of lies she’d laid out for Paul Normandy would bring MacLeash’s curiosity to bear when he sobered up. There was only one thing better than the truth when it came to dealing with MacLeash. To him, her life was nothing more than half-truths, much like she’d told the nice man across from her. Who’d all too quickly accepted his role and decided to buy into the mission. They would talk about that later. He’d bear watching, especially now that he was loose. Of course, that provided yet another problem.
After they finished, Dana stacked the plates on the tray and sipped the last of her wine. “Why don’t you help me get this to the galley, Paul? Then I can take you on a tour.”
“I’ve been aboard a lot of starships, Dana.”
She shook her head. Telling him about their concerns of piracy would only excite him and distract him. Knowing where the traps were, and how to disable them, would be too much information. He would only need to stay away from the areas she stressed.
Just like they had planned.
She looked at him and smiled. “Honey, you’ve never been aboard a ship like this.”
* * * * *