Things Fall Apart: Chapter 31

Aboard Zephyr, in orbit of Gliese-581, trailing Borass Station

Singer had sort of gotten used to the idea that her superior was going to look a bit like someone who never got enough sleep. There was still a lot going on, and "normal" was a long way off. The fact that the current state of affairs might actually be "normal" now was not much discussed, openly. Singer, however, privately wondered what efforts might be expended to rebuild something like New Norfolk in a system that had little intrinsic value. The city, and the shipyard, had grown up here because of its position within the growing sphere of the Tau Ceti Treaty Organization. It had been one of three regional nodes which, with Tau Ceti itself as the core, formed a kind of distributed capital of the organization.

If the Incident had been as widespread as they feared, though, there may simply not be an organization left. A system like Tau Ceti, with the fully human habitable Cherryh's World, would eventually recover, and probably even build new orbital habitats as exploitation of resources in the system became attractive again.

Systems like Gliese-581, though, where there had been only spacer settlements? What would that look like going forward?

These were not new thoughts for Singer, which also meant they took very little time to race through her brain while she processed just how haggard her de facto commanding officer appeared.

Apparently, Singer took too long at this task anyway, for Haraldsdottir said, "Elyah? You all right?"

Singer physically shook herself before answering, "Permission to speak freely?"

"Now and always."

"You look like hell."

That should have brought at least a snort from the commodore, but won Singer only a wry quirk of the lips. "Shall you like to know why, Commander?"

Singer noted the change of mode. "Yes, ma'am, I believe I would."

"Your idea to hold Bellerophon out as a station leaked. I don't know how, I don't know who, and—let me be clear—I don't blame you or anyone in your crew." Now, the other woman did snort. "Hey, that rhymed! Maybe I'll retire and become a poet!"

Singer allowed herself a small smile while responding, "Did the leak pose a problem?"

"It did. The mirror image of what you dealt with 100 kilos ago. It's occurred to various station administrators that not only refugees from Aquila or your crew could be shifted there. Some of those stations are still badly overstretched. Some are never going to make good long-term habitations, but people have to live somewhere. Some even got the bright idea that we have several other surviving hulls out in the yards that could be pressed into similar duty. After all, we don't have enough ship-trained personnel to actually send them outbound, so we might as well use them, right?"

Haraldsdottir gave Singer a look that had become familiar. Their relationship had become something between mentor or professor and student, and big-sister and little-sister, which was fascinating when Singer stopped to think about it, having never had a big sister. Haraldsdottir had asked what would otherwise be a rhetorical question, but the look gave it a non-rhetorical spin, meaning she wanted Singer to give her a considered answer.

So, Singer took some time to consider the matter, then said, "That doesn't sound completely unreasonable."

The commodore nodded, as if expecting that answer. "It doesn't, does it? Except that they include Zephyr in that tally."

Faced with that statement ten megaseconds ago, when Bellerophon had first arrived and Singer was still just the highest-ranked survivor and not a designated and increasingly confident commanding officer, Singer might well have indulged in a flight of temper, knowing Haraldsdottir probably agreed with her and therefore blowing off the steam would not have been seen as insubordinate.

Now, however, faced with this statement, this idea, that the whole project they'd been building toward might be knocked sideways by people who were not taking the long view...well, that was always the problem, wasn't it. Some people just didn't take the long view. A harried station administrator looking for answers would grasp at the straws in front of them.

So Singer only responded, calmly, "We need to go. Right now."

Haraldsdottir nodded, trying to maintain a professional face, but unable to keep the emotions completely off it. "With the utmost dispatch. If there's anybody aboard who absolutely does not want to ship out, then yes, ship them over to Bellerophon, ideally before the shift is up. I've already talked to Ari and Ari's instance of Chef—it was important that this be consensual for him. He's game, even eager to be of use, so he's already installed there. I quietly ramped up the number of dock-monkeys aboard her so there'll be something like a crew there. Silverman's heading them up."

"Good choice. I almost tried to steal him from you, you know. But at this point, I think we have...not all we really need, but enough to get us out."

"I appreciate both sentiments, and thank you for not stealing him. With you leaving—" she paused. Singer could see her wrestle her voice back under control. "With you leaving, he's probably the one I'll be relying on the most. I know you could have used him, but I really need him here."

"My thought exactly."

There was a moment of silence, just kind of looking at each other. There were things to say that had no place on an official record, and no opportunity. Finally, Haraldsdottir took a deep breath and said, "Quick as you can, Elyah. You've got the Alice's Restaurant Massacree in your boat bay right now, still, yes?"

Singer had to think about that. "I think we do. We haven't had a chance to send it back. Pilot's been bunking here without complaint, so it didn't seem urgent."

"Send it back with whomever is staying, and break orbit as soon as it's clear. Traffic control already has orders to clear you out of the system and has been working to divert what little traffic we have away from your likely flight paths."

Singer gave a lopsided smile, "We'll try, just this once, to do what's likely."

That finally got a proper snort. "G-dspeed, Zephyr. Call me when you've got the first new relay in place."

"Aye, Commodore."

Singer allowed herself perhaps three hundred seconds to center herself, then went to the bridge. As she'd hoped, Alexander was in the hot seat, and Cadotte, Cordé, Wasserman, and even Espinoza were all present. Ensign Garecki, whom Singer rather guiltily realized she had not seen since the kiloseconds right after the Incident, was sitting next to Cadotte, apparently getting some cross-training. Good. This mission was going to call for maximum flexibility. Specialists always had a place, but everyone needed to be a little bit generalist, now.

Alexander saw her come in and said, "Captain on the bridge!"

Singer was still not used to that. Maybe never would be. Alexander seemed to take odd pleasure in doing it, however, so Singer let it go, even though she might have preferred less formality. She replied with a quick, "As you were!" and walked over to her XO. Alexander yielded the chair, which Singer almost declined, but then thought through the sequence of impending events and decided to take it. "Status?"

"We're ready to go whenever you give the word."

Interesting. Maybe something else had leaked. Maybe the crew were just eager. Right now, though, that didn't matter. It was the answer Singer needed. "Exec, please ask the pilot of the inspection boat to begin preflight; after that, would you and Lieutenant Cadotte please find out, as quickly as you can, which crew would prefer not to come with us, and arrange for them to be aboard the Massacree by shift's end?"

Alexander managed somehow not to look guilty when ze responded, "Captain, the pilot of the Massacree has held her at ready-standby the last thirty kilos. In addition, I believe Lieutenant Cadotte has already quietly polled the crew."

Definitely a leak somewhere, then. Or maybe the public newsfeeds had just made it obvious what had to happen next, and Singer, freshly awake and showered and only just dressed when she took the commodore's call, had been the only one behind.

Well, that's why one had a crew, wasn't it. One had to sleep, sometime.

Alexander was standing to Singer's right, while Cadotte was sitting to the left, so Singer now swung her head around, perhaps a little dramatically, with an "Oh, really" eyebrow, up.

Cadotte, however, was taking their cues entirely from Alexander and also maintained a straight face while saying, "Yes, Captain. Twenty-five ratings from Aquila, and five of our own survivors from Bellerophon, have opted to be put ashore and are ready already aboard the Massacree."

This was, almost, too much, and Singer said, "Tell me, what would you two have done if my conversation with the commodore had gone differently?"

Alexander responded, "At that point, I would have called upon Lieutenant Cadotte's surprising but unquestioned skills at crowd management to explain the change of plans."

Cadotte responded, wryly, "Thanks awfully."

Singer let it pass. "In that case, Exec, please clear the inspection boat for departure and wish her safe travels. Inform me the moment she's safely away and we're clear to navigate. Ensign Cordé!"

"Yes, Captain?"

"Allcall, please."

"Yes, Captain", and then a moment later, "You're on."

"Attention all hands. This is your captain speaking. All hands to departure stations. Repeat: all hands, departure stations. Zephyr is leaving the system. All hands, departure stations." She nodded at Cordé, who cut the connection. Next, she turned to Espinoza, saying, "Commander, start your engines."

The smile Espinoza returned was downright wolfish. "Aye, Captain!" and left the bridge.

"Mr. Wasserman, do we have our navigation to our first waypoint?"

"Yes, Captain. I've had it dialed in and updating. We'll be about a shift getting out to the system's edge; then, we'll begin a gradual ramp-up of time compression and see how it settles in. Best case estimate is about two hundred kilos to the first waypoint and relay-drop. Subsequent hops should be faster unless we encounter an issue that has to be addressed."

"Understood. I'm not going to lie, I'm looking forward to getting someplace quickly for a change. Oh, and try not to throw Traffic Control any surprises. I'm informed they've anticipated us and cleared the most likely lanes already."

Wasserman graced that with a smile as he said, "Yes, ma'am! I'll do my best!"

Then, there was waiting, perhaps ten kiloseconds, before Alexander finally reported, "Alice's Restaurant Massacree reports herself safely clear and en route to Bellerophon. They wish us G-dspeed. I took the liberty of thanking them already."

Singer nodded, thoughtful. There was that word again. That archaic word. Perhaps it was appropriate. Yes, it was definitely appropriate. She had researched the word and the name of the ship. Now, she signaled Cordé to give her allcall again. When the whistle was done blowing, she said, "All hands, attention. This ship, now our ship, was named Zephyr. Zephyrus was the name the ancient Greeks gave to the personification of the west wind. Our mission now will call for the wind's swiftness. We will need to be nimble, not just in the physical sense, but mentally and emotionally. We will need to rely upon each other, as spacers always have. We are not just an assortment of people in a tin can. We are a crew, and this is our ship. We have work to do, and we will see it done."

Singer took a breath, and then said, the intercom still open, so all could hear, "Mr. Wasserman, break orbit and take us out."

She could not quite keep the grin from her face, her attention rapt on the display, as it showed that they were under way.