Chutes & Ladders (Prosperous Book 1) Page 10

  Tru continued mentally working on the problem, losing track of time. He glanced at the door when the doorbell beeped, quickly recalling his request to see the doctor.

  “Enter,” Tru said.

  The door cleared and Q’al entered. He stopped, looking around the room.

  “Was this your father’s office?” Q’al asked.

  Tru smiled. “Yes. Did you know my father?”

  Q’al walked up to the stack of books, looking at the titles on the spines. “I met him a few times, but I wouldn’t say that I knew him. I visited the ship’s library and was surprised to find so many paper books alongside reading nodules. Was he the reason you decided to keep the library that way?”

  “Yes. I learned a lot in those old books.” Tru added a stack to the pile sitting on a small transport pad. “Gracie, transport these to the librarian’s desk.”

  You are transporting your parent’s personal books from your office?

  “I am.”

  Perhaps you should—

  “Gracie, don’t give me a hard time. Just do it.”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Gracie.”

  Transporting. The books disappeared.

  Q’al watched Tru to see how he reacted to the terse, upset tone in the computer’s reply, but he didn’t appear to notice. Tru walked to the bar and poured a drink.

  “Would you like a drink, Doctor Equ’Wixal?”

  “Please, call me Q’al, Captain. A gin and tonic would be pleasant. Does Gracie always give people a hard time? There have been a few times today she instigated a debate or argument over a command I issued.”

  “She’s been that way for as long as I can remember.”

  Tru handed Q’al his drink and walked to the sitting area, settling into one of the wingback chairs.

  “Join me.” Tru motioned to the other furniture.

  Q’al sat down in the chair across from him and sipped his drink. “An excellent drink, Captain. Have you moonlighted as a bartender?”

  “No. It’s my oldest brother’s favorite drink.” Tru crossed one leg over the other. “Have you met our ship’s psychiatrist? A Yeoma, I believe.”

  “Doctor Hachee Arighet. I served with her about twenty years ago. It’s been refreshing catching up with her.”

  “I’ve only been able to speak with her a few minutes since we left spaceport. Her credentials are impressive.”

  “Indeed. But then…” Q’al smiled at his drink. “So is our human psychiatrist’s.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t keep myself too far from my practice, even as a captain. I’ve debated telling the crew.”

  “You should tell them. They might feel more comfortable telling you about things before they get into fights.”

  “Perhaps. Since you brought up that I’m one of the ship’s psychiatrists, my request should help get us past the confidentiality tape.”

  Q’al lowered his glass to his lap, noting the serious tone the conversation had taken.

  “Which would be?

  “I want to review Ensign Jackie Rhoades’ medical records.”

  “For what reason?”

  “Jackie has a dissociative personality disorder, and she told me that one of her personalities deleted that from her service records. I want to see if she may have missed something in her medical file.”

  “I can forward you all those records, but bear in mind, Captain, she is a Silerium.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Well, I’m sure you’ve treated some.”

  “Yes, which is why I don’t understand your remark.”

  “They may be human, but the mutations they’ve gone through have made them very unstable. There is no cure for her or any Silerium like her. Most psychiatrists I know don’t even take them as patients because they don’t believe there is any way to help them.”

  “So you’re suggesting I should abandon her because she’s a Silerium?”

  “I’m simply saying that by their nature Sileriums are emotionally volatile and unpredictable.”

  “Do you mean only Sileriums with this disorder or all Sileriums?”

  “Most that I’ve encountered have been difficult to deal with, Captain. Additionally, I have served with Ensign Rhoades on many stints, and she has shown no interest in treatment. They are all like that because they know they can’t be helped.” With a little more reserve Q’al added, “Yet no one seems to be doing anything to prohibit them from reproducing.”

  Tru had to swallow back the angry words that wanted to come out. This wasn’t the first time he’d encountered racism towards Silerium, but there was something about this encounter that felt very personal. Maybe because he’d felt Jackie hadn’t had a chance to show the universe she was powerful, but also very analytical and intelligent.

  Calmly he asked, “So you have attempted to help Sileriums?”

  “No. There’s no point. But having been a doctor for nearly sixty years, Captain, I have treated my share.”

  Bitterly Tru said, “I’m learning so much from you right now. See, I was unaware that Drasken doctors are trained to pick and choose who they should or shouldn’t help. And after sixty years, I’m sure you know everything there is to know about how Sileriums think, feel, behave, or react, don’t you? Have you tried to help even one, or do you feel they are all lost causes?” Tru fell silent, glaring hard at Q’al.

  Q’al realized that perhaps he had misread his captain’s question and that True was a Silerium sympathizer. He hadn’t been asking Q’al if he thought Tru should treat Jackie’s disorder or his opinion of Sileriums. He was asking about Jackie, the individual. Q’al was a little concerned, however, because he had never met a human sympathizer who was easily offended by his opinions of Sileriums. He’d have to remind himself to carefully avoid this topic in the future.

  Carefully choosing his words, Q’al asked, “I’m afraid I don’t understand the direction our conversation is going. Could you perhaps enlighten me about your views on the topic?

  Tru shifted in his chair and sipped his drink. “Have you ever read the entire records of a crewman? Both service and medical?”

  “When something comes up, I do.”

  “You should do it as an occasional past time, just to become familiar with your potential patients. I’ve found it is very helpful, especially before an emergency arises. Why don’t you start with mine? And could you give me access to Jackie’s records by morning? Good night, Doctor Equ’Wixal.”

  Q’al was worried. The quick dismissal was a clear indication that the conversation had angered Tru. “It’s Q’al, sir, and did I do something wrong?”

  Tru smiled, but it held no charm. It was meant to dismiss Q’al and suggest he should leave without question. “I have work to do. You’re dismissed, Doctor Equ’Wixal.”

  Q’al stood, setting his glass on the coffee table in front of him. He walked to the door, resisting looking back.

  Tru watched him leave as he sipped his drink. He leaned back in his chair, putting his feet up on the coffee table.

  He was quite rude, Gracie said. It sounded more like she was snarling the words, something, not even the best A.I. computers were capable of.

  Tru didn't acknowledge the tone. “He isn’t the first to hate my kind or will be the last. I just... I did not expect that to be the end of such a miserable week.” Tru stood, setting his drink on the table. “Gracie, is that why you are so disagreeable with him? Because of how he feels about Sileriums?”

  The computer didn't reply right away. Yes. I am offended by his opinion of Sileriums.

  Quietly he said, “Me too, old girl.” Louder he said, “Gracie, I’m going to go hide for a while in the Catacombs. Tell anyone looking for me that I'm in a meeting. Or dead.”

  I will tell them you are in a meeting, Truman.

  Q’al didn’t want to admit it, but he was lost. He wasn’t even sure how he’d gotten so lost. He’d left Tru’s office and knew, or thought he knew, exactly where his quarters were. Bu
t clearly, he didn’t because none of the halls or numbers next to the doors were familiar to him. He stopped outside a door and held his hand up to the biometric pad. Nothing happened.

  Doctor Equ’Wixal, you have entered an unauthorized area, Gracie informed him.

  Q’al exhaled a breath, venting his frustration with the impossible computer. He guessed that was why it sounded like she was snide.

  “I’m sure am in an unauthorized area. Direct me back to my quarters.”

  You must leave immediately.

  “Give me directions.”

  You should know the directions.

  Q’al stopped short. He looked at an intercom panel down the hall. “Who said that?” he asked.

  There was no reply.

  “Gracie, do you detect any other biosignatures in my area?”

  Only you and you are not authorized to be in this area.

  Q’al rolled his eyes. “Yes. I know that. Can you transport me out of here?”

  You must leave this unauthorized area immediately.

  “Gracie, transport me or give me directions back to my quarters.”

  You’re supposed to be smart. How can you possibly be lost?

  Q’al’s eyes narrowed. That was definitely a tone of sarcasm. “Am I talking to a computer?”

  Yes.

  “Then why would you ask me if I’m actually lost or have an attitude?”

  Instead of answering, the computer replied, I’ve dispatched a security droid to escort you to an authorized area.

  “Don’t you know how to get me back to an approved area?”

  Yes.

  “Give me the directions and cancel the security droid.”

  No, Gracie snipped.

  Q’al was surprised by the response, and he felt foolish when he realized he was arguing with a computer. “I cannot be talking to a computer. Who are you?”

  A security droid came around the corner. The thing was a giant, black titanium droid that had a single bar across its ‘head’ that glowed an angry bright red.

  I have no respect for you. Follow this droid or the only place I will be transporting you is to the Brig.

  “Who is this? Who is pulling this prank?”

  There was no reply.

  “I asked you a question, Gracie. Respond.”

  Gracie didn’t respond. He looked at the droid. It was a machine that didn’t care about the situation one way or the other.

  “Escort me back to my quarters,” Q’al told the droid.

  “Follow me,” the droid’s disinterested, computerized voice replied, and it marched away.

  Q’al followed.

  Part of him was sure that the voice had been someone playing a prank on him, but his irrational side wasn’t so sure. He and several cargo grunts – crewmen responsible for moving and keeping an eye on the cargo – had drunk at the end of the first week in celebration of no one dying and a captain that had so far been a decent one, both rarities. As the spirits slowly took over, the conversation changed to the gossip and ghost stories that surrounded Prosperous. He learned that the ship was well known among the grunts for both good and bad reasons.

  They talked about how fast she was and that her systems were kept up-to-date with the most cutting edge technology. The late Doctor Barnett had contributed a lot to space exploration and the sciences with her. The rumors said that she had been built faster than any ship before, or after, her. These were the good stories.

  Then they talked about the ship’s battle stories. She was said to be the quickest ship known to any race. Some said that the late Captain Barnett often let the computer take control during attacks and that the computer had artificial intelligence that surpassed any in existence

  Some said the central processor, Gracie, was actually technology from another realm, or an unknown part of the universe, or from humans in the far, far future. Others said that the ship wasn’t really a ship at all, but a life form that just looked like a ship, and she needed a full crew because she ate crewmen.

  Of course, these were just irrational ghost stories. Those irrational ghost stories that made Q’al keep looking over his shoulder until he was safely back in his own quarters.

  Speech of Terallian Emperor Falu Lixu, December 7, 2141, moments before launching the first wave of attacks on Earth:

  “Humans are reeds, the weakest in nature, and easiest to crush. They have not gained in strength, nor in numbers. Do not waver from your duty, do not take pity on them, because these humans are animals. They would kill your infant son, asleep and helpless in his cradle, if only to see the child bleed.”

  Chapter 15

  JULY 2660

  ‘BY THE HOLY ONES, CAN’T YOU SEE IT’S A TRAP? RUN!’

  Amidien looked up from the floor and around him. He sat in the captain’s chair on a raised circle that placed him above his crew. Around him was a domed view screen that gave him a three hundred and sixty-degree view outside the ship. Nearby and unseen was a second Terallian ship, and Paskian and an Avinion ship. The Eslin system sun was behind him, brilliantly lighting the Control.

  Ahead a Merchant Raitor freighter ship was slowing down in the debris of seven destroyed ships. Despite his willful wishing, the captain of the ship didn’t see the trap and didn’t have time to run once the attack began. The captain was following protocol and doing his civic duty by responding to a distress beacon. In five minutes, his ship would be issuing its own distress signal to lure another Merchant Raitor crew to their death.

  “Proceed,” Amidien quietly ordered.

  As it came around the Sun, the Avinion ship uncloaked and opened fire on the Merchant Raitor vessel. Amidien’s eyes drifted from the view screen to the floor.

  “The Jeas is hailing us,” his COM officer told him.

  Amidien looked up. His eyes widened slightly. The Avinion ship was taking massive damage, far more than it was causing to the Merchant Raitor ship.

  ‘ That’s it. Fight back! Kill them if you have to, but win. Win!’ Amidien stood. “Open a channel to the Jeas.”

  “Sir, our core is destabilizing,” the Jeas captain told him. He sounded frightened, and well he should be. “They made a direct hit to the shield generator. We only have minutes. What are our orders, sir?”

  Amidien didn’t respond to the captain’s fear. Instead, he ordered, “Captain Carej, ready the Paskian War Ship for the attack. If the Jeas is destroyed, you are to proceed with the mission orders.”

  “Aye, sir,” Carej replied.

  “Sir!” the Jeas captain cried.

  “You have your orders. Die knowing you served the Empire and Emperor Lixu well.”

  “Hail the Emperor,” the frightened Terallian responded.

  The transmission ended seconds before the Jeas exploded. The Paskian vessel emerged from behind the Merchant Raitor ship and opened fire. An explosion blasted from the area of the Merchant Raitor ship’s engine. Amidien looked away.

  ‘You fought bravely, crew… Whoever you were. Holy Ones, ferry the souls of the crew safely to their higher lives.’

  “The ship will be destroyed in five minutes,” a crewman informed him.

  “Tell Captain Carej to be sure he gets the captain, First Executive Officer, and the ship’s roster.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Amidien didn’t look up when the exploding Merchant Raitor ship lit the screens before him.

  “Captain Carej asks if you’ll be coming aboard,” his communications officer told him.

  “For?” Amidien looked at the officer.

  He looked up at Amidien, his face disbelief. “To observe the torture.”

  “He can direct it.” Amidien looked ahead.

  “He’s asking to speak to you in private.”

  Amidien tapped a button and around his chair, an opaque, soundproof shield formed. He tapped another control, and Captain Carej appeared on a holographic view screen in front of Amidien.

  “Yes?” Amidien asked.

  “This is the fifth ship I’ve
attacked, and you’ve never once witnessed me carrying out my orders.”

  “I trust you are doing as commanded. Is there a reason I shouldn’t?”

  “Didn’t the orders state you were to witness these?”

  “No. Are you suggesting that I should observe because you were too incompetent to read the orders yourself and comprehend them?”

  Captain Carej paused. He opened and closed his mouth a few times. He finally snapped his jaw shut, making a smacking sound.

  “No, sir. Permission to return to duties, sir.”

  “Granted.”

  Amidien disconnected the communication before Captain Carej could attempt another remark, or before his sorrow for the dying showed. In the privacy of the dome, he brought up the ship’s roster and carefully read each name.

  “I knew none of you,” Amidien whispered to it. “Thank the Holy Ones.”

  He cleared the screen and disengaged the privacy shield. It was a good day when he didn’t recognize any names.

  Trusting your heart is foolish. Not trusting it is suicide.

  Froalb proverb

  Chapter 16

  TRU ROUNDED THE CORNER AND ENTERED THE BRIG. EXUM ZALET SAT AT HIS desk in the back of the Brig. He didn’t look away from what he was typing, but that was likely because, as an Avinion, he either knew Tru was coming from a premonition, or he was silently pulling information out of Tru’s mind.

  Tru had always been fascinated by the Avinion, even as a child. They looked like someone had crossed a nearly starved human and demon, to get a creature close to two meters high, with a face that was long, gaunt, and gnarled. Their bodies were covered with chalk white skin that draped off their seemingly fragile bones. But they were anything but frail. In several medical classes in college, he’d learned that their bones were so dense that not even a laser could cut them, and that was after it had managed to get through skin that was as resilient as steel and regenerated within hours.

  During his last stint as an XO, he'd discovered that an Avinion scientist, artist, or chef, was just as lethal as an Avinion soldier or security guard, and fought as ruthlessly as a rabid badger. They were also intelligent psychics, and Tru wondered how they continued to remain passive and non-violent with what they knew was going to happen, and how ruthless they could become when threatened. Maybe that was why they always looked sad, even when they smiled.