Days Until Home Read online

  The galley was only as large as it needed to be: ten meters squared, with one wall of food dispensing machinery and two tables with chairs bolted into the floor. The yelling came from the three crew members standing by the food dispenser. Jimmy was one of them.

  “…can’t be serious,” Jimmy said, gesturing with a hand.

  The target of Jimmy’s anger was Daisuke, the supply officer. He crossed his arms and said, “Take it up with the corporation. I’m just following orders.”

  Jimmy saw Viktor. “Boss, they’re cuttin’ the return rations.” He held up a brown rectangle of hardened nutrient paste. It was a few centimeters shorter than normal.

  Viktor frowned. “What’s wrong? What happened to cause this?” His first fear was the navigator had underestimated the return trip, that it would take longer than previously expected.

  “Nothing happened,” Daisuke said carefully. “It was planned this way by HQ from the start. More efficient.”

  “Cheaper, you mean,” Jimmy said. “How the hell am I supposed to survive on 1,500 cals a day? Look at me! I already don’t have any fat to spare!”

  The third man snorted. He wore the blue uniform of the Bridge crew. “You don’t get to complain. You slaggers have been feasting on 4,000 a day for the past two weeks!”

  “Cause we’re the ones doin’ the heavy labor, Einstein. Not all of us get to twiddle our thumbs in a comfy chair sixteen hours a day.”

  “Comfy chair? You slaggers have no idea what we do…”

  Viktor turned to Daisuke. It took every bit of willpower to keep his voice calm. “How can you do this? The previous calorie guidelines were carefully calculated based on body mass. The amount of muscle atrophy that will occur in the six weeks…”

  “Maybe you weren’t listening,” Daisuke cut him off, “but it wasn’t my call. I’m just the enforcer. Take it up with HQ when you get back. Or your ops manager.”

  Viktor cocked his head. “Wait. Connor?”

  ”Uh huh. He signed off on it, too.” Daisuke squinted at the code on Viktor’s uniform and punched the code into the dispenser. It made a whirring noise, like coffee beans grinding, and then a small rectangle of food-like material slid into the tray.

  “Take it or leave it, I don’t care. But get out of the way so the rest can get in here,” Daisuke said.

  Viktor grudgingly took the food.

  “I don’t want your slag-shaped energy bar,” Jimmy said, throwing the food across the galley. It bounced heavily off the wall and fell to the floor, too dense to break apart. Jimmy followed Viktor to the door, then thought better of it. He scurried to the corner of the room, picked up his bar, and then stormed out.

  “Can’t believe this,” Jimmy muttered.

  “Yeah,” Viktor said. Connor couldn’t have known about the restrictions. He wouldn’t have allowed that.

  Would he?

  Viktor considered confronting the ops manager, but the intercom in the ceiling buzzed to life. “Ten minutes to departure. No exceptions. Anyone who breaks a limb because they weren’t in their launch chairs will be required to reimburse the Kerwood for medical expenses.”

  Jimmy made an ugly face. “Broken limbs? This ain’t Saturn. You could fill the Kerwood with sleeping babies and none of ‘em would notice the liftoff.”

  Viktor took a bite of the calorie bar, chewing the tasteless chunk methodically. If the corporation was skimping on food rations, he doubted they would reallocate profit bonuses to the more efficient workers. Easier to just cut the pay of the slower ones and pocket the rest.

  But Connor said he’d make sure it happened. Was he lying? Just telling Viktor what he wanted to hear until they got home?

  He knew about the ration cuts, Viktor thought. And he didn’t deign to share that with us.

  They returned to the change room and dressed in the environment suits required for all launches and landings. The thin material wouldn’t withstand a butter knife, but it would keep them alive for a few minutes if the Kerwood suddenly lost atmosphere.

  The launch chairs for the miners were arranged against the wall in a narrow hallway barely wide enough to walk through. Most of the miners were already strapped in and waiting. One was Connor. He nodded to the Russian.

  Viktor gave him a we need to talk look before squeezing past his knees. He considered confronting Connor right then, but decided it would be better in private. No need to call out the ops manager publicly until he heard his side of the story.

  He fell into one of the open chairs and pulled the harness over his head. The chair shifted. Viktor tested it by moving back and forth, and the chair wiggled at its base. Piece of slag, he cursed in Russian.

  Jimmy stared down. “Aww, man. If I’d known the fun seat was open I’d’ve taken it.”

  Viktor looked a question at him.

  “You know. If it comes loose during launch you’ll get to go for a stroll while the rest of us stay bolted to the floor. Fun seat.”

  That didn’t sound very fun. Viktor began removing the harness so he could switch to a more stable chair, but the rest of the miners were already filing into the hallway. Half of them didn’t even bother wearing their launch suits, which made Viktor’s hand twitch. He considered pointing it out to Connor, but the Irishman already had his eyes closed.

  Resigned to his environment, Viktor sighed and leaned back in the wobbly chair. One last contract. One last launch. Forty-two days until home, and then he’d never worry about such things again.

  He took another bite of his calorie bar, just another unpleasant task to complete in a long list of unpleasant tasks. He closed his eyes and thought of Helena while waiting for the launch.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Days Until Home: 41

  “This is slim, Lu. When I gave the okay to cut the rations, I assumed it would be about 500 calories.”

  Winchester Hayes paced the small space like a panther as he looked at Angelo with some frustration. “This sort of thing could get messy. You’re a small guy so it works out for you, but imagine a man my size trying to live off this.” He gestured with a block of hardened nutrient paste.

  Lu slicked back his hair and looked around, then leaned in to him and whispered, “You can always get more if you like, Captain. It’s the—”

  “Not the point,” Winchester said, his voice loud and commanding. Angelo Lu looked around frantically.

  “Captain, we had no choice with the food supply going bad all of a sudden. You told me to always plan for the worst case scenario and with our trip, these reduced rations will get us all the way through. I’m not trying to see my crew mates hungry, but we’ve been generous with rations the entire time here.”

  “What about the packets from the esprISSo coffee maker? Is there something we can do with that?” Winchester said.

  “In a pinch, I suppose, if we deplete all our rations. But I don’t see that happening now. We caught it just in time and everyone gets to eat …really, Skip, it’s not that big of a deal.”

  Winchester Hayes considered the situation and decided that Lu knew what he was doing.

  Femke Gerhardt slipped in through the narrow passageway and placed her back on the bulkhead near Angelo Lu. “We can hear you guys in here discussing the rations. Do you mind if I give you my two cents?”

  “What you got, Funky?” Winchester said, and he folded his arms defensively.

  Femke said, “This is going to sound like paranoia, but hear me out. I have a hunch that someone purposefully sabotaged our supplies.”

  “Oh boy,” Angelo said and rolled his eyes, “Do we really want to go down this path, Skip?”

  “Fifteen minutes!” Gauge yelled out from the bridge and Winchester winced at the lack of time.

  “Got it, big man,” Winchester yelled, “We’ll be right there.”

  “Listen, Cap,” Femke said, “You should talk to Marisol. There’s a rumor that we have a Lunar baby onboard the ship. Now, I’m not saying that he means to sabotage the mission, but what if he could make us
sweat, you know, to meet some sort of anarchist agenda?”

  “I don’t like to tell people this, but I have an uncle who was a member of that church,” Angelo said. “People make mistakes. Come to our house and he’d dote on you until you begged him to stop. Just because someone’s parents were a part of that sick cult does not mean they are out to poison our food supply. I mean, really, Femke? That is your enlightening addition? We just lost five minutes of strategy listening to your bigoted opinion.”

  Femke hopped forward and got in Lu’s face, and it took a calculated choice for Winchester not to hold her back. “How am I a bigot, Lu? I think that it’s a valid concern. How is it that after all this time our rations go to slag and, AND it’s conveniently near the time when we’re heading home?”

  Angelo inched away from her. “Look, I hear you, Fem, Funky, I-I just, I just want us to be rational with all of this. That is all.”

  “Rational?” Femke laughed, “So, I’m irrational to you?”

  “Oh boy,” Winchester said and looked out at Gauge. The big man threw up ten fingers and Winchester answered with a thumbs up. Stepping out into the pathway, he grabbed the transmitter attached to his helmet.

  “Ten minutes to departure. No exceptions. Anyone who breaks a limb because they weren’t in their launch chairs will be required to reimburse the Kerwood for medical expenses.”

  Winchester used his hand to wipe away a smile, then ducked back into the space to see if Angelo was still alive. Femke asked Lu to explain what he meant by the word rational, and the Chief still tried to back away even though he was pressed firmly against the bulkhead. He glanced at Winchester, as if begging for a lifeline.

  “Hey, Lu, Femke, we have to go,” Winchester said, “but I’m glad we got to have this talk. We’ll make it work somehow and get everyone home.” He waited for Lu to walk past him and patted him on the shoulder. “Femke, hang back a second. Lu, I’ll see you on the bridge.”

  Angelo gave him a friendly wave and a shrug, then slipped through the small passageway to the bridge. Femke spoked rapidly, “I know what you’re about to say and I’m sorry that I popped off. I just hate when that guy starts in with his Vulcan B.S. and the rational thing. I tell you, that is one way to see me get ugly.”

  Winchester said, “Calm down. I just wanted you to catch your breath before you strap in, butterfly. Now take a deep breath, and we’ll get through it.”

  “Okay, Captain, I’m ready. Let’s get this show on the road. I swear, I don’t get you sometimes.”

  “What?”

  “You’re having me calm down and breathe when you should be kissing me,” she said under her breath.

  Days Until Home: 41

  Kerwood, this is it, we’re about to shove off. I hope that you’re all strapped in, suited up, and ready to go. We will begin the countdown sequence in just under five minutes now, and I would really like for us all to have a safe trip.

  Winchester Hayes removed his finger from the transmitter button and looked around to see how everyone was doing.

  Five bodies sat in orange LES Launch Suits, each in their designated grooves within the octagon. Even Marisol Vega was in an LES, and she preferred to be as comfortable as possible. She flexed her rebellious muscles by keeping her helmet off, unlike the other crew members who were fully dressed. But Winchester was used to her flying around free and was confident she would don the helmet as soon as countdown started.

  There was light banter between them all as they stood ready for lift off. They seemed to be antsy, and Angelo Lu was actually smiling in anticipation of their leaving. Winchester could understand their need to get off of the asteroid. The scenery there was as exciting to watch as stand-still traffic.

  All of a sudden, Lu hissed his teeth audibly, and then exhaled with frustration.

  “Let me guess, Lady Marmalade is not in her seat,” he said, and Lu tilted his head down a bit.

  “Maybe you want to go teach her a lesson, Cap,” Marisol said without looking. “I’d put up cold hard cash that she will actually thank you for it. She got a thing for you. You don’t want to believe me—”

  “That’s enough, Ms. Vega. I’ll take that under advisement,” he said. Winchester looked over at Lu to establish eye contact, then shrugged helplessly and shook his head. Lu managed to stifle a laugh before getting annoyed again.

  “Then there’s this guy Jimmy with the miners,” Lu began. “Every single time with this guy. I’m starting to think he likes hearing my voice telling him to strap in.”

  “Maybe he wants you to be his daddy,” Marisol chimed in again.

  “You know, Vega, I’m starting to question the type of communication you came up here for,” Booker said.

  “Want me to be your daddy, Book?” Marisol said, and Femke turned to face him.

  “Okay, can we get back to the launch?” Winchester said, giving Marisol a glance. He found it amusing and wanted to laugh but fought to keep a straight face before continuing. “That’s enough now, Vega. Let’s get our game faces on.”

  “Anything for you, Captain,” she cooed at him, and he exhaled slowly, feeling slightly embarrassed. His eyes drifted over to Femke, but she still had her back turned to him. Either she was impervious to Marisol or she was making a fight out of keeping her cool.

  “Is Jimmy and what’s-her-name in their seats yet, Lu?” Winchester asked, and Angelo held up a finger as he finished yelling into his transmitter for a man to strap in.

  “We have all green, Skip. It’s never easy, is it?”

  “Eh? Sometimes it is, Lu. When you have a crew with the right attitude. We’ve got tired miners who don’t want to be here and engineers who think they can run my ship better than me. People do what they can, you know, to stick it to the man.”

  “Stick it to the man, Captain?” Booker asked, smiling.

  “You know what I mean, smart ass. They do annoying slag. Like take their time when we’re about to launch. Anyway, we’re at a minute. Vega, that’s your cue.”

  “One minute till lift-off, Kerwood,” Marisol’s sugary voice intoned. She then leaned back in her chair, dropped her boots noisily, and blew a raspberry into the air. She looked as if she was bored out of her mind, but it was just an act. Winchester had picked up on this after working with her for some time.

  Marisol Vega was a brilliant woman who hid her love for her work behind a mask of sexual innuendo. She was the one who organized the sequences they were now going through. Sequences that had made launching and landing a well-choreographed dance.

  Marisol’s social awkwardness—because that’s what he thought it was—had to be the most bizarre thing he had ever seen. It made the other women hate her while the men did as she commanded, though some were intimidated by her overt, say-it-like-it-is posturing. Winchester always wondered about her, if it was truly all an act. Angelo Lu had certainly tried but burned out faster than a joint in late April.

  Still, he liked Vega. She was pleasantly different and a welcome contrast to the robotic personality of his navigator, Gauge Schneider. As if on command, Gauge spoke, “Navigation received and ready for your command, Captain.”

  His report had come in after a lengthy series of check-ins from all the necessary stations that comprised the Kerwood.

  Winchester Hayes switched his transmitter to the Kerwood intercom. “Prepare for lift-off!” he ordered, and then switched it off. “How’re we looking, Book?”

  “Looking good, Cap,” Booker Hawkins replied, his jovial mood never seeming to wane.

  Hayes said, “Alright then. Miss Vega.” He turned to meet her eyes as she glanced back at him through her freshly-donned helmet. “Activate sound suppression and start our countdown when you’re ready.”

  “Aye aye, Captain Hayes,” she said in a voice that was a tad too silky. Every man on the bridge seemed to smile or glance at one another.

  Had Winchester seen Femke watching him, he would not have winked at Marisol. He didn’t mean anything by it, but it had come as a react
ion. One could call it a volley in a sport of flirtatious tennis they had played since day she came aboard. But to Winchester, it was just a wink. An off the record acknowledgment of how fetching she was. And he knew it was appreciated by the sliver of tongue that broke past her lips to wet them in preparation of her countdown.

  Marisol announced, “Sound suppression activated. Commencing countdown. T minus 10 …” and she activated the automatic countdown for the Kerwood. Her recorded voice picked up on the sequence, “9… 8… 7,” and she switched her transmitter off.

  “All yours, Captain,” she said, but didn’t bother to turn around this time.

  “Thank you, Marisol,” he said and nodded at Booker.

  The thrusters came alive and the artificial gravity was removed. The growl of the engines fought past the suppressors and it sounded as if they were inside of the world’s largest washing machine. The Kerwood shuddered and Winchester couldn’t help but grin. This was his favorite part of space travel, the part where he couldn’t hear himself think.

  The thrusters burned hotter and hotter, locking horns with gravity, but won out with no real contest as it separated the mass of the Kerwood from Egeria-13.

  “We’re headed home, Kerwood!” Booker shouted, but the crew on the bridge could barely hear him over the noise.

  Home, Winchester thought. What’s home to a burnout whose entire reason for living had been removed so many years ago? He thought of Lu and his ambitions, and he tried to recall when last he had looked forward to the future. Future. The word was a joke. What future? A future with the Kerwood, doing job after job?

  Maybe a future with Femke. A second chance at the nuclear thing? No, I’m too old, he thought. She will be done with me as soon as we get back to Luna Station. No future there, we’re just an old frigate and a pretty schooner helping each other to get through to the end of the trip. Plus, what could I do for her? he pondered. Nothing, that’s what, I have nothing left inside this heart to give.

  Things used to make sense back when his money had meaning. A future for Colt, his son,… fancy university; Colt’s first home; maybe a luxury car or two. He recalled the anticipation he felt seeing his son with someone he loved. Playing it forward with his own family. Doing everything that Winchester couldn’t.