Chameleon Ch 32

With the sudden loss of pressure from the explosion, doors automatically shut at specific junctions throughout the interior corridors to minimize damage and casualties. Both decks three and four had slammed shut. The mess hall had been sacrificed to save the galley, and the corridor was shut to access the sick bay from port side. On the deck below, the airlock for shuttles other than the Osprey was also gone. Luck had salvaged that deck, for the double vestibule of the airlock was already in place when the accident happened.

Quixote dispatched a remote camera, tethered to the ship, from the shuttle bay, to examine the problem in closer detail. The tool was heavily shielded from radiation for use around the star ship exterior, yet as it approached the maw the picture began to fail, and within a minute the entire unit stopped working altogether. By the time it was retrieved, only scraps remained attached to the tether, which was also showing symptoms of deterioration.

Cerebrus, Kym Byrd, John Chin, and Quixote sealed the radioactive remnants into a Low-Level Waste canister and stashed it within the reactor room for safe keeping. Each of them hurried to wash and change clothes before returning to engineering, except Cerebrus. He managed the waste while the others scattered.

“I don’t know what hit us, but I guarantee someone will pay for the damage to Maria Mitchell,” Quixote vowed.

“Who will own up to putting radioactive materials in orbit?” Kym asked rhetorically.

“Many, many orbiting objects have small radioactive propulsion systems, run by the simple decay of the element. I believe the item that Cerebrus and Rougeau tried to avoid was the object, and we need to review our visual records to confirm its characteristics. Ms. Byrd, I’d like you to follow up on that.” The commander looked from man to android and back to man. “Cerebrus, I’m sending you to apply the Heavy Foam. Mr. Chin, you will coordinate from inside the ship. Dismissed.”

The three left Quixote alone in the engineering section. Xe had Rougeau provide xe with the bow and port recordings so xe could tell Captain Jackson exactly what happened. If xe neglected to do so, the man would ask, and xe would be unprepared in either event. Upon examination, Quixote concluded that Rougeau had acted within guidelines, but the box had indeed magnetized to the hull, exploding on contact.

From its construction and debris pattern, the only conclusion was that the box contained radioactive material, or low-level thorium, thulium, plutonium, and uranium waste. Markings on the side were clearly Pegasi, not Kiian, Human, or Cetian. This wasn’t a surprise to Quixote after all the trouble they’d had with Pegasi for the last twenty years.

“Chin to engineering. We’re ready to begin.”

“Acknowledged. I’ll join your shortly.”

On the way to the damage site, Quixote stopped in the sick bay, realizing xe’d not checked in there. An engineer’s brain usually thought of systems and machines before people; good leaders would have thought of sick bay first. A twinge of guilt danced over the reptile’s brain but only for a moment. It shortly translated to a decision to change that behavior pattern, and the incident was closed.

Entering sick bay, xe realized why the captain would have gone there first. Although the commander was unable to help with medical chores, being in the triage room offered the wounded emotional support. Humans could perhaps feel the heat, but Quixote saw heat swirl around their heads and bodies in a different pattern, a pattern that was valiant among warm blooded creatures.

Dr. Adams approached.

“Did you talk to Jack yet?”

“I have not; we have serious hull damage that I was attending to. What do you have to report?” Adams’ eyes were tired, dull, barely blue and lacking their normal sparkle. He scratched at his snowy brows.

“I have one casualty, one missing.” With a nod the doctor indicated a body, covered with a heavy canvas, on the floor in the lab. Quixote tipped an eye closer to the old man’s face. “Jules Graham, the cook, didn’t answer roll call. Corporal Wagner is over there.”

“I didn’t interact with the cook often; I’m sure he was a fine crewman. Mr. Wagner was an excellent armory and security man. He was popular with the crew. His death will not sit well with the them.” Quixote shifted from side to side, looking for something to sit on, but standing would have to do for the moment.

“We have injuries, too. Bailey, Danielle, Simon, Ensign Stone. They’ll recover, although I’m uncertain about Danielle yet. Brain injury.”

“Tragic,” was all Quixote could say. “We were hit by a container of radioactive waste.”

“What? What?! Radioactive – my god. I suppose it could have been worse. Most of us are on the planet. Glad it wasn’t meal time. Geeze, who would do that?”

“Pegasi.” The doctor uttered something unintelligible under his breath and his face reddened.

“I want to talk to Jack when you get a hold of him.”

“Certainly, Doctor. I am about to go take care of that.” Quixote stopped at each bed to say hello to the injured. Danielle Davis was unconscious. Simon Harchett had a chest injury and was sleeping. Zoe Stone smiled when the commander stepped to her side.

“What happened? I was sitting in my office and bang!”

A container of radioactive material was attracted to our hull, and when it hit, it exploded. How are you feeling?”

“We’re in orbit. It was in orbit?”

“I’m afraid so.” She placed her bloodied hand over her face. “Be well; you’re in the good hands with the doctor.” The reptile stepped to Bailey’s station. He reached out to take her warm, proffered hand. Tears began to roll down one cheek; what to do about that was a mystery for any Draconian.

“How are you?” xe asked. “Where is Mr. Keith?”

“Doc sent him to our quarters; he was scraped up but not serious. I’m so upset about Jules. I hope he’s just hiding somewhere on the ship, or trapped. Have you all looked for him?” Quixote shifted his step uncomfortably.

“Cerebrus and Mr. Chin are working in the rift. I’m sure they will keep an eye out for anyone trapped in the wreckage.”

“If it hadn’t been for the auto-doors I’d have been dead, gone! I was in the galley!”

“You’re safe here, Ms. Bailey. You’re safe. Doctor Adams will take excellent care of you, of that I don’t worry.” She squeezed the single digit of his clawed hand.

“And Mr. Harchett –” she cried. “He pushed me away from the doors. I didn’t know they were about to close. He saved my life.”

“That’s the kind of chap he is. Doc tells me he will be all right. He tells me you as well, will be fine soon. Rest.”

Quixote managed to leave the sickbay before a strange shiver ran down xe’s dorsal scales, rippling oddly, a sensation xe didn’t remember from the past. Considering it a call for assistance, the next task would be informing Captain Jackson.

þ

“What?! Whhaaaat?! You’ve got to be kidding me,” Jackson said over the small intercom button he’d dug out of his pocket. Still in bed, he thought maybe he was hearing the tail end of a bad dream.

“I apologize, Captain, but I’m afraid I have to ask you to return to the ship.”

“You don’t have to ask. I’ll be there as soon as I can get a shuttle.”

“You’ll have to go on the Osprey, sir. The airlock for foreign ships was destroyed. The first trip is in an hour. I don’t assume you’ll be needed urgently between now and then.”

 “I’ll be at the Terra Ceti compound in an hour. Jackson out.”

“What’s going on?” Rianya mumbled. The captain had already jumped out of the bed.

“Those canisters of radioactive material in orbit I told you about? Maria Mitchell ran into one, sort of. My ship has a hole in her side the size of a house.” He rustled into a pair of trousers and pulled a shirt over his head. “Doc says there’s casualties. I need to get up there.”

“We should all go up,” she said, struggling to get out of bed.

“No, Love, you’re safer down here. Maria Mitchell isn’t stable.” Jackson fished around in his pocket, pulling out the map Jake had given him. He wanted to talk to the young man about the containers he’d been monitoring. Apparently, one of them went rogue.

He leaned down to kiss Rianya’s cheek. He glanced at the two girls asleep atop a pile of blankets on the floor. He wanted to keep them close, but also knew their safety was ensured here, not on Maria Mitchell.

“You’re coming back, aren’t you?”

“I won’t leave you here, if that’s what you mean. I don’t know what I’m facing up there. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Don’t go too far.” She sat on the edge of the bed and threw a smock over her head. “Here,” he said. Tom handed her the slip of paper. “This is where the man with the radio lives. If you need something, take Honey, they know each other, and he can help you.”

“I don’t speak the language!”

“You won’t need to. He’ll know who you are if you’re with Honey.” He cupped her chin in his hand and stroked her cheek. “I’m not going anywhere, we’re going to be in orbit until the ruptures are sealed.” She nodded.

He walked out the door and shut it gently. The morning was barely broken and a small chill tousled his hair. The map was drawn for the Olde Towne area, not too far from the lodging. He would have gone by if it weren’t in the opposite direction. He stood at the corner, looking toward the cooling tower, then looked back at the lodge. Rianya waved to him from the window. He blew her a kiss, and quickly moved on.