Everything we’ve been looking for could be right here, but where?
Feeling stuffy, he stood up in order to shrug out of his parka, and saw al-Khaled doing the same thing.
“Mahmud,” he asked, “have your people installed an enviro-control system down here?” He was unaware of any such task on the list of assignments that had been given to the Lovell’s team.
A frown creased al-Khaled’s olive complexion. “Not that I know of.”
Wiping his brow, Xiong was surprised to find a bead of perspiration wetting his fingertip. “It’s getting warmer in here.”
34
Throughout her time as a ship commander, Sarith always had regarded her quarters as a refuge, a place of solace from which she could—if only temporarily—escape the myriad burdens of leadership. The few precious hours she spent here when not on duty, be it sleeping or immersed in a treasured book or listening to favorite music, always had been vital to her well-being and peace of mind, in her opinion even more so than the exercise and diet regimen dictated to her by the Bloodied Talon’s physician.
Now, however, her sanctuary seemed more like a prison.
Without the faint yet omnipresent hum of the Talon’s warp engines channeling through the hull, it seemed to Sarith that much of the life had been removed not only from her quarters but also from the entire ship. A languid pall seemed draped over the room like a stifling blanket, even the air she breathed feeling heavy and stale in her lungs. Due to power conservation requirements enacted by the ship’s engineer, primary lighting throughout the ship had been reduced save for the most critical of uses. A single light source situated over her desk pierced the darkness of Sarith’s quarters, its feeble illumination managing only to chase the shadows to the corners of the room and offering the sensation that the bulkheads might be trying to close in on her when she was not looking.
Enough with that foolishness. You are not a child.
The reprimand seemed to echo within the confines of her sleep-deprived mind even as Sarith looked down at herself and allowed a small laugh to escape. For the first time she realized that she was sitting in her favorite overstuffed chair with her legs held close to her chest, her arms wrapped around her knees and pulling them tight to her. It was a pose she had adopted often as a young girl, sitting before the firepit in her family home and listening as her grandfather read aloud from a book of treasured stories, his nightly gift to his grandchildren before it was time to sleep. Sometimes the stories were frightening and young Sarith would be frightened, tuck her body into a ball in an attempt to ward off the monsters described in the pages of the storybook.
“If only it were that simple,” she said, though there was no one else in the room to hear her.
A gentle knock echoed on her door, a substitute for the intercom tone that sounded whenever one of her guards notified her of a visitor. Power consumption aboard ship had been reallocated to the point that even such small indulgences as a door chime were viewed as wasteful.
“Enter,” Sarith called out, loud enough to be heard in the corridor beyond her quarters. A few seconds passed as the centurion outside used a manual release lever to open the door, and she smiled as she beheld Ineti standing before the threshold.
“May I come in, Commander?” he asked, his wizened features warmed by an almost paternal smile.
Rising from her chair, Sarith motioned her second-in-command to enter. She waited for the guard to close the door before stepping forward and throwing her arms around her lifelong friend, ignoring the resulting pain in her side. Ineti said nothing, merely wrapping his own arms around her and allowing her the time to extract as much comfort from the gesture as she needed.
“My trusted friend…for as long as I can remember,” she said after a moment, patting his chest before pulling herself away and using her hands to smooth the wrinkles from her uniform. “You’ve always known how much I look to you for strength and guidance, and never have you considered it a weakness, just as you’ve never asked anything in return. If we are to die, I can think of no better way to do so than with you at my side.”
Ineti’s eyebrows rose. “You’ll forgive me, Commander, if I refuse to look ahead to that tragic event with any great enthusiasm.” Looking toward the ceiling of her quarters as if contemplating the stars that lay beyond the hull of the ship, he added, “We are not finished yet, Sarith. So long as we draw breath, we are not yet defeated.”
“Save that for the crew,” Sarith countered as she turned toward a small bureau positioned near her desk and retrieved a half-consumed bottle of ale along with two glasses. Motioning Ineti to be seated in the chair situated near her desk, she poured generous portions of the radiant blue liquid into the glasses before offering one to her companion. “What’s our current status?” she asked as she returned to her recliner, attempting to reassert herself at least somewhat into a command mind-set.
If Ineti was bothered by her dismissive comment, he chose not to indicate it. “The warp drive is a hopeless cause, of course. Even if the physical damage was repaired, the lack of an antimatter containment assembly renders the entire point moot.”
Sarith nodded in acknowledgment. Even if the engineer were able to manufacture a replacement, the original containment sphere had taken with it the Talon’s entire supply of antimatter. Without that vital ingredient, the ship’s warp engines were nothing more than vital organs which already had surrendered to a disease ravaging a dying body.
“We are operating on partial impulse power only,” Ineti continued. “Life-support is currently our most demanding power requirement, though other essential systems are being supported via battery backups, but without the warp engines to recharge them their usefulness will be exhausted in eighty-six dierha. The engineer is attempting to configure a means for replenishing the batteries from the impulse drive, but it is a risky procedure.”
“Compared to what?” Sarith asked, drinking liberally from her glass and savoring the warmth of the ale as she swallowed it. “Allow him whatever latitude he requires. We are far past playing it safe, I think.” If the Talonwas to survive long enough to be rescued, it would do so through effort and ingenuity—at the same high level now displayed by her crew.
Steadfast and loyal to the end,she mused as she took another sip from her glass. Perhaps they will survive long enough to see the Praetor recognize their fidelity.
She doubted that, of course.
Taking a moment to sip from his own drink, Ineti regarded the sparkling cobalt ale in his glass before continuing his report. “Our supplies are also an issue. A significant portion of our food stores has been contaminated by coolant leaks. I’ve already imposed a rationing schedule to extend our remaining provisions as long as possible.” He offered a small smile. “You did say you wanted to take your diet more seriously, did you not?”
Though she knew the situation did not warrant it, Sarith allowed herself a mild laugh at the gallows humor. She sobered almost immediately, though, as her mind turned to her next question, the most grave of those she needed to ask.
“What about casualties?”
Reclaiming his own typically staid composure, Ineti replied, “The physician has finalized his casualty report. There were four deaths in all. Two from engineering were killed by a collapsing bulkhead, one died in weapons control due to a coolant leak, and Centurion N’tovek, of course.”
Sarith nodded at the report. Power constraints being what they were, it was impractical to utilize stasis chambers to preserve the bodies, and jettisoning them carried the risk of detection. She therefore had given the order for the remains to be disintegrated with hand disruptors following an interval for the crew to pay their appropriate final respects to their comrades.