She used to know it.
Dare I start the emergency beacon?
Her finger hovered over the button as she hesitated. Then she activated the scanners and found no local ships.
What if a raider finds me first? Aaron had said there were reports of them in this region. They wouldn’t dare mess with a vessel as large and well-armed as the Bight, but a small lifepod?
Reluctantly, she decided against the beacon. She couldn’t take the chance. Not yet.
Afraid the voice recorder’s batteries might die and not wanting to charge it up and waste the pod’s energy reserves, Emi moved the contents, including Kayehalau’s confession, into the pod’s databanks. She started to delete everything, then decided to leave Ford’s talk on the voice recorder.
If she didn’t play it, it would hold a charge for a long time.
She returned it to her pocket. Then she clicked the pod’s recorder and started a log. “First entry. This is Dr. Emilia Hypatia of the DSMC research vessel, Tamora Bight. I have included a record of a confession by Kayehalau, a temporary crew member assigned to the Tamora Bight against my wishes.” She choked back a sob when the thought came to mind that this might be the beginning of the last words she ever said to anyone.
“I escaped in the auxiliary lifepod two seconds before the Tamora Bight activated its jump engine. I had to, or Kayehalau would have used me as an incubator. An audio copy of his confession is on file in the databanks for the official record. The jump is supposed to take nine days, so I anticipate at least eighteen days before my ship returns to this area.
“Meanwhile, I do not know what will happen to my memory. I have no idea what drugs I was given, but he said I would lose my memory if the antidotes were not administered. And for the past several days, including this morning, I have noticed memory gaps. So I feel the need to say this all now, in case I can’t remember later. Or…”
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Or in case I am not found alive. My shipmates aren’t just crew, they are my husbands. Official crew roster is Captain Aaron Lucio, First Officer Caphis Bates, and Mate Ford Caliban. I want them to know…”
Emi took another deep breath to steady her voice. “I want them to know, I love you, guys. It’s not your fault. He planned it all, down to the letter. He’d set it up to pull this off during the jump sequence while you guys were busy. He apparently gave me drugs for several days and tried to play me off you guys to make it look like I was sick. I don’t blame you. Please, don’t feel guilty about this. This isn’t your fault.”
She paused the log for a moment while she composed her thoughts and tried to get her emotions under control. “Aaron, please take care of the twins. Don’t let them get into trouble. I know that’s hard to do, but if anyone can do it, you can. Caph, they need you, big guy. Ford, you won’t let them run themselves into the ground.” She hit pause again, unable to continue as her tears hit. This was a very real possibility, that they might not find her in time…or at all. No telling how far the pod would travel from the jump point.
When she felt she could continue, she did. “And please tell Mom and Dad I love them. And Donna, Sophie, and their guys.” She choked back a sob. “You are my men, and I love you so much. Please stay together. Please don’t blame yourselves or each other. None of us knew what this guy was up to when he did this. I hope I get to listen to all this again with you, but if I don’t, never forget how much I love you and how wonderful our time together has been.”
She had to stop again. Her emotions took over, and she let herself cry for over an hour before she calmed down. Then she forced herself back into official mode to continue the entry.
“The lifepod is equipped to support four crew members for a week. If I conserve my resources and turn down the temperature, I can stretch that to at least two weeks, quite possibly longer. Food isn’t a problem. Water and air should last a month with the recyclers on board. My main concern is power and life support. I’m really far from the closest solar source, so recharging the pod’s systems might be an issue.” Emi took a deep breath. “End of log entry.”
She tweaked the systems to conserve energy. A cooler temperature was doable. She was used to it on the Bight anyway. Thank the gods she’d worn a warm sweatsuit and jacket instead of a crew uniform. Emergency blankets in the pod would help keep her warm, and the cooler temperature would slow her metabolism anyway. She adjusted the oxygen levels down a little as well, yet not enough to make her cyanotic and induce hypoxia. It made the air slightly thinner, but would stretch out her supply reserves and reduce the power usage by the scrubbers. And it wasn’t like she was doing heavy labor. She also tweaked the grav settings. With just her in the pod, she didn’t need them.
After locating the blankets, she stretched out on a bunk, strapped herself in to keep her and the blankets from free-floating, and stared out the small view port.
Nothing. Black, open space punctuated by distant stars.
Chapter Eleven
“What the hell was that?” Aaron watched as Ford frowned at his console, which had turned into a blaze of red warnings as alarm Klaxons sounded.
“Abort jump!” Aaron barked.
Caph shook his head while his fingers flew over his console. “Too late. Jump engine’s engaged.” Both his and Ford’s hands raced across their consoles as they tried to figure out the problem.
“What the fuck just happened?” Aaron yelled over the alarm. “Did the jump engine short out?”
Ford’s face went white as he found the answer first. He turned to Aaron. “We lost a lifepod.”
“What?” Aaron pulled up displays on his command console. “What the fuck?”
Caph grimly confirmed it. “It jettisoned at two seconds pre-jump. The aft pod. The small, auxiliary one. It’s gone.”
“How?” Aaron stared at his console. “They can only be launched if someone’s inside.”
Ford looked at Caph, then Aaron. “Where’s Emi? And where’s Kayehalau? He was supposed to be up here for the jump. Said he wanted to watch.”
The men went silent. Aaron slammed his hand onto the com link button. “Em? Call the bridge immediately.”
The men sat, collectively holding their breath.
“Kayehalau, contact the bridge immediately!”
Nothing.
With a frantic edge to his voice, he tried again. “Em, this is an order!”
Silence.
Aaron shouted into the com link. “Doctor Hypatia, where the fuck are you? Quit screwing around and call the goddamn bridge! Kayehalau, call the bridge right fucking now!”
Ford pulled up the ship’s scanners and desperately tried to locate Emi.
Caph stood and walked over, reading the screen over Ford’s shoulder. “Shit,” he softly whispered.
Behind them Aaron still screamed into the com link, his voice cracking in desperation. “Em! Call the bridge right now!”
“She’s gone,” Caph whispered. “She was in the pod. It’s her last registered location. They were down there in cargo together, and now she’s gone.”
Aaron jumped from the command chair and bolted from the bridge, the other two men on his heels. They didn’t pass Kayehalau in the corridors as they made their way to aft cargo and stared at the closed lifepod port.
“We’ve got to stop the jump,” Aaron hoarsely whispered. “We’ve got to get back to her.”
Ford slowly shook his head. “We can’t. You know that.”
“We have to!”