Ion Trail 26: Aftermath

It was a good thing I hadn’t asked about my ship while I was still strapped to the bed because I might have done myself an injury. Lorna had come by later that night, after Shanna had fallen asleep in her seat, to check on me and unfasten the straps. We’d sat and talked for a while, first detailing the various crew injuries, talking about how Sister Estrada was doing, but after a while just talking.

“So you’ve been helping with the injuries aboard-station?” I asked. She smiled wearily.

“Yes,” she replied with a nod. “They need all the help they can get. The black ship attacked out of nowhere, and there were a lot of injuries before people could get to safe zones.” She rubbed at her temples and leaned back in her seat to stare at the ceiling. “A lot of casualties, too; mostly burns and vacuum related, but they also lost three mining haulers that were out of the station, with all crewmembers.” I winced and closed my eyes; those deaths were on me.

“How is the recovery going?”

“Well enough,” she answered. “They’ve contained all of the breaches and are working on sealing them; luckily they have a lot of raw materials on-hand. It’ll probably be another day before relief vessels and TU combat frigates arrive to provide support, but for now, things are going as well as can be expected.”

“What about the Hostile Witness?” I asked, fearing the worst.

“Still out there,” she replied. “They haven’t been able to repair any of the star docks sufficiently to haul it in yet.”

“What?” I sat straight up in the hospital bed, outraged.

“Easy, easy,” she replied, lifting her hands in a calming gesture. “It’s tethered to the station, so it’s not going anywhere. Diaz tells me that they’ve offered to perform all of the necessary repairs free of charge, as soon as their facilities are up and working again.”

“Oh.” I relaxed back into the bed, mollified but still feeling more than a little guilty. “I’m sure we can cover our own repair expenses,” I added.

“I’m not sure we can,” she replied. “At least, Shanna and Diaz aren’t, anyway. The damage is pretty extensive. Shanna said the only saving grace is that we didn’t have any cargo in the hold.” She shifted in her seat, and I took a moment to study the woman; like Shanna, her eyes were heavily bloodshot, apparently a side-effect of the partial depressurization the Hostile Witness had suffered before the rescue shuttle had gotten everyone off the ship, though Shanna was worse off than most, since she’d been near the cargo bay when we were hit. Lorna also looked like she hadn’t slept since we’d arrived.

“Well, I guess we’ll figure that out tomorrow,” I said. “For now, why don’t you get some rest? You’ve been talking to me for an hour already, and I doubt you’ve taken much time for yourself otherwise.”

“I probably should,” she agreed, though it was obvious she was reluctant.

“I can make it an order, if that helps,” I offered. She smiled and shook her head.

“No, that’s fine,” she demurred and stood up, stretching. “I’m just going to use this other bed, if you don’t mind. They wanted you to have your own room, but beds are hard to come by right now.”

“Please,” I said. She moved quietly through the room to the other bed, and was soon fast asleep.

I, on the other hand, was wide awake and remained so until the morning when another medic came to check on me. By that time, I’d had enough of lying around and against her advice insisted on getting up; the gash on my forehead, which apparently had taken a good dozen sutures, was the worst of my injuries and I was ready to move. Reluctantly she relented, especially when Diaz came in to check on me; she told him that he was responsible for ensuring I didn’t overdo it, then finally subsided.

At my request, Diaz took me to the nearest place I could look out of the station to show me my ship. It had several polycarbon cables lashing it haphazardly to the side of the station, but looked little worse for the wear until you got to the aft section. Though the ion drive thrusters were intact, the cargo ramp and surrounding hull areas were crumpled and burnt; it looked like we’d taken a direct plasma shot. I ached just looking at it.

“She’ll be fine, Captain,” Diaz assured me. “They said that they should be able to haul her in to one of the star docks in a day’s time and they’ll be better able to assess the damage then.”

“But you don’t think we can cover the costs?” I asked.

“Shanna doesn’t,” he replied, “but it’s okay. The Forge is insisting on covering all repair costs, and said Volcon may also want to offer a bonus for our troubles.”

“We don’t need any of that,” I protested, guilt spiking my guts. “They don’t owe us anything.” Diaz looked at me, surprised, but after a moment his bloodshot eyes took on a knowing look.

“You feel responsible for the attack,” he guessed.

“Of course I’m responsible for the attack!” I said, wheeling from the window to face him. “I went poking my nose where it didn’t belong, and led them straight back here!”

“Maybe we did,” Diaz said with a subtle emphasis on ‘we’, though his face didn’t indicate that this was agreement. “But the black ships have hit two other stations within three days travel from here, and none of them have survived.” He shook his head. “It was only a matter of time before they came here anyway, but this time there are a few thousand survivors, and the station is still operational.”

“But…” I trailed off, remembering the station in flames, imagining all the lifeless bodies floating in space, like there had been back at Kestrel.

“But nothing, Susan,” he said. “You know I’m right. We were probably sent to check out that star system because it was a suspected staging point for the attacks in this region.” I looked at him, helplessly. I wanted to argue, but I really didn’t have anything to say.

“When did you get so smart?” I asked instead. He laughed, though it wasn’t a happy sound.

“It’s not me,” he replied. “I’ve just been in meetings with the station manager almost the whole time since we arrived and I’m repeating what she told me. At first I thought this was our fault, too.” He ducked his head, a flash of remorse crossing his fine features. I sighed and turned back to the window to stare at my broken, abandoned ship. Diaz moved up beside me and put a hand on my shoulder, and I leaned into him, taking comfort from his understanding.

=+=

The Forge was true to their word, and by the next day they were hauling the Hostile Witness into one of the first restored star docks. Restored was a bit of a generous description, but there was a space big enough for my ship and there was oxygen to breathe. It’d do for now. Once the technicians were done getting it into place, we went inside to survey the damage.

The cargo bay was a complete wreck, obviously, and the last pair of constructed rooms was as well; one of those was Janice’s, the other was Melva’s. Janice had been in her room during the fight, but she’d hidden under her bunk with the datasphere filter terminal she’d built; when the room had collapsed she’d been trapped until Clinton had gotten her out, but she’d mostly been okay. Melva hadn’t been so lucky. She’d been sitting at the desk in her room praying, as she did whenever there was trouble, when we took the plasma blast.  She’d been thrown to the floor and knocked unconscious, suffering several other lacerations and the sprain in the process.

Shanna’s room, nearer the front, had been fine, but unlike the others she’d not been in her room. She had been going to check in with Clinton, to see if there was anything she could do to help. When we were hit, she’d been in the hallway outside the cargo bay, so was thrown around by the explosive depressurization; luckily some of the loose plasteel sheets in the cargo bay had partially obstructed the breach, or it’s likely none of us would have survived. She’d also lost her commlink in the commotion, which was why she hadn’t responded when I’d called for a report. Aside from the cargo bay, several systems positioned nearby had been damaged by shrapnel and power surges; that’s what had happened to the atmo scrubbers.

The forward cabins were intact, though personal belongings were scattered all over. The galley was a complete disaster; though it had been designed with the potential for gravity loss in mind, the designers hadn’t planned on this ship ever being in combat. The engine room was mostly intact, though apparently there’d been a fireball when the power surged. Clinton had gotten second-degree burns on one arm and Omar had lost half of his beard and an eyebrow, but there was no other significant damage in there. The cockpit was also fine, although there was an alarming amount of blood all over the console. If I hadn’t known it was my own blood, I’d have thought someone had been murdered there. I didn’t linger. The station technicians who’d accompanied us `took very thorough notes, and told me that they’d let me know as soon as they’d finished their damage assessment.

Later that day the skies outside of the station began to fill with ships. A Terran Union capital ship was the first arrival, with an escort of no less than five frigates, a destroyer and half a dozen smaller gunships. Shortly after, a TU medical frigate arrived and set up a field hospital on The Forge’s small concourse, and TU doctors and nurses took over for the overwhelmed station clinic. Maybe an hour after that, I received a summons to the station manager’s office.

“Captain Rickard,” the rotund woman levered herself to her feet when we arrived, coming to meet me with an outstretched hand. “I’m sorry we haven’t had the opportunity to meet before now. I wanted to thank you personally.”

“Quite alright,” I answered, nonplussed. Sitting at one of the chairs arranged in a semi-circle in front of an oversized desk was an elder gentleman in the dark grey of TU service uniform. He rose when the station manager brought Diaz and me over to the chairs and I saw his rank was Captain; quite a bit higher up than me, where Captain was more of a title than a rank. Likely he was the commander of the battle group that had just arrived.

“Captain Rickard,” he echoed with no trace of irony and inclined his head by way of greeting, remaining standing until we’d all seated ourselves. “I understand that you’re something of a hero.”

“Fuck that,” I blurted out, eyes widening. “I mean, no, I’m no hero.” His only reaction to my obscenity was a small twitch of the lips.

“The station manager has led me to believe that without your intervention, I’d be here investigating the wreckage of this station rather than having this nice sit down.” One bushy eyebrow lifted sharply. “Are you saying that this is not so?”

“Um, I mean,” I stammered. “I guess I helped, but the station did most of the damage. I just kept them busy.”

“And provided the means of allowing us to target the black ship,” the station manager added. I shot her a dirty look, and she blinked in surprise at me; I gave her an apologetic grimace and shook my head.

“Look,” I said. “My ship is probably the reason the ship showed up here when it did. Even if it might have come here eventually,” I added, glancing at Diaz, “I couldn’t just run without trying to help.”

“And yet most small freighters, especially as lightly armed and shielded as yours, would have done just that. It’s the smart play and no one could have blamed you.” The Captain leaned toward me, drawing his eyebrows down sternly. “You did not; you chose to stay and fight at considerable personal risk.”

“Alright, fine,” I grumbled. “What do you want from me?”

“I’d like you to stop arguing with me, for a start,” he answered, sitting back up and taking on a more neutral tone. “There are more important matters to discuss.” I was immediately on guard.

“Such as?” I asked warily.

“I understand that you had a survey mission in TDG-14526-D, where you encountered the ship that attacked the station.”

“It might have been the same ship,” I corrected. “It was big and it was black, that’s all I can say for sure.”

“May I ask who hired you for this survey mission?” he inquired. “The registry indicates that the star system has little in the way of natural resources to offer.”

“It’s not my policy to discuss my business arrangements with outside parties,” I replied, trying hard to keep the hostility out of my voice. Something about this guy was getting under my skin, more than just being TU.

“Of course,” he answered smoothly, “but these are hardly usual circumstances. Surely your employer would not object to you complying with an official investigation.”

“I wouldn’t care to guess what my employer would or wouldn’t object to,” I replied. “An incorrect assumption could destroy my reputation and if you know anything about my business, reputation is everything.” I added, “I would be happy to communicate with my employer and inform them of your request.”

“Of course,” he said, unflappable. “On another note, you were recently at Terra Primus, unless I‘ve been misinformed.”

“Yeah,” I confirmed, nervously.

“I’d like to formally request that, should you decide you’d like to speak to me, that you simply ask, rather than dumping any bodies.” With that he stood, while the station manager and I both gaped at him. “I shall be returning to my ship to help coordinate recovery operations. Station master, should you require anything, you have my direct line.” He glanced at me as he said this, letting his gaze linger a moment. “If you’ll excuse me.” With that, he was gone.

“You, uh, dumped a body?” the station manager said to me after he was gone. I glared after the Captain angrily then sighed, turning to look at the station master with a wry smile.

“Let’s just say that I’m not a fan of bureaucrats.”

“Okay,” she said, taking a moment to process this. “Well, I’d like to echo the Captain’s request to just ask, if you need anything.”

“Deal,” I laughed, feeling the tension break. “Was that meeting why I was called here?”

“Not entirely,” she said. “I wanted to speak to you myself, but Captain Haver asked me to call for you now, so that he’d be able to meet you as well.”

“Hell of an ambush,” I muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing. What did you want to see me about?”

“Oh, right,” she flipped through a few sheets of plas on the table in front of her, then pulled one from the pile. “Your first mate has hopefully already told you that I insist on covering all repairs for damage sustained in defense of The Forge.” She paused, and I indicated that he had. “Well, Volcon would also like to offer further compensation. This is a letter from Kristina Shannon at the Bekter’s Rim office.” She handed me the sheet of plas and I read it to myself, frowning. I felt Diaz leaning over to peer at it, so I handed it to him once I was done.

“I don’t think we can accept this,” I said.

“Kris warned me that you might not,” she replied. “Listen, you’ve saved thousands of lives,” she raised a hand to ward off my protest. “Whether or not you believe it, I believe it, and so does most of my staff. For that alone, we owe you more than we can repay. But on top of that, you’ve saved Volcon billions of credits. If they thought you’d accept, they’d ensure you could retire moderately wealthy, right now.” She leaned forward, staring into my face earnestly. “Volcon is big business; no one is ever going to say otherwise. But we started out as a family business. Kris is my baby sister, and my dad retired as foreman here five years ago, before I took over as station manager. We understand loyalty, and taking care of your friends and family. I think you do too. You risked your own life and those of your crew to take care of someone else. Whether or not you ever sign a contract, after this day, Volcon will always consider you part of the family.”

I leaned back in my seat, stunned and more touched than I would have expected. I exchanged a look with Diaz; it was harder to read his expression with his eyes bloody and tired, but he looked as surprised as I felt.

“Just in case you’re interested,” the station master added, breaking the silence, “Kris also sent an updated copy of the contract she offered you back at Bekter’s Rim; told me to tell you that corporate is willing to negotiate further if it’s still not sufficient, but that it’s non-exclusive, so whatever other understandings you have may remain in place.”

“Listen,” I said, collecting my thoughts. “Uh, can I ask your name?”

“Carol,” she said, reaching across the table to clasp my hand again. “Carol Arnold, formerly Shannon. Honored to make your acquaintance.”

“Thanks,” I said, taking the offered hand for a firm shake. “Listen Carol, I am flattered beyond words, and tempted more than you could know.” This time I really was; a non-exclusive contract, with even better terms than the last? That was literally unheard of. “But the truth that I couldn’t bring myself to tell Kristina is that I’m just not a company woman, though it sounds like Volcon would be a hell of a company to work for. If it will allow us to still be friends, I’ll gratefully take the offered compensation, but I just can’t sign a long-term contract.”

“Lady, you could knock me on my ass and spit in my drink and I’d still consider you a friend, but I can respect your stance.” I laughed out loud at that image; I was pretty sure I couldn’t knock her on her ass, even if she’d stood there and let me.

“Are you sure Kristina is your sister?” I asked her.

“Oh yeah,” she chuckled. “She took after mom though, and she went to business school. I was always more like dad, though.” She shoved herself out of her seat, and made her way around the table. I rose as well, with Diaz right behind me. “Listen, you need anything while you’re aboard, you just let me know, and it’s yours.”

“I will,” I said, as she showed us to the door. “And thank you.”

“Thank you,” she replied, earnestly, then she turned to Diaz, as we got to the door. “You’re awfully quiet today, handsome. You were a lot more of a chatterbox yesterday, talking up your crew and your Captain and all” I glanced at him, and he looked embarrassed. She winked at him and opened the door. “Don’t be strangers!”

“What was that about?” I asked him as the door closed behind us.

“Just being friendly,” he replied, the color in his cheeks rising. “You know me, always talking to people.”

“Uh huh,” I said, warming to the challenge of getting him to talk when I noticed a uniformed soldier down the hall, watching us. He turned away when he saw me look at him, but there’d been no mistaking that he was watching. Any sense of playfulness evaporated. Diaz looked where I was when he noticed my demeanor change.

“What’s up?” he said, suddenly tense.

“Come on,” I said, not answering his question. “We need to get back to the crew.”