Stellar Objects

Chapter 28: Mission MedPossible

Captain Nayar was relieved to have his brood back on board.

He'd never wanted the captain's chair, such as it was, and for the past five year's – since his injury and recuperation – he'd been responsible for other people's lives. But faced with the meaningless of life in a universe at war, Nitin never took his responsibility very seriously. Now, that that most of this crew had been stripped away, and he was left only a cop, a criminal, and five juveniles, he felt a strange, unfamiliar urge to protect what passed for his people.

When the obnoxious Shakes and clearly-calculating Andra returned in the shuttle, he breathed easier knowing they were back under his watch; under his protection.

"Good to have you back," he said over the comm link. "Everyone assemble on the bridge for a..."

He'd almost said, "family meeting," like his father used to, but instead said: "briefing."

Little George initially refused, claiming he was still fine-tuning the fusion core. But Captain's orders were Captain's orders.

Tez arrived first, wearing an apron that was covered in red stains. The ethnic Martian was huge, and Nitin knew he could kill him with his bare hands, but he sensed that Tez was a gentle giant, a wandering soul in search of stability...and a good kitchen.

"Everything all right in the galley?" asked Nitin.

"The beetnips and Tez had a fight, he said.

"Who won?"

The Martian smiled. "Tez had the knife."

Maybe not so gentle, thought Captain Nayar.

Rys followed closely behind, complaining that, "he makes the mess, and I have to clean it up. How's that fair?!"

This once sole heir to a now enslaved world was uppity and entitled, a bit like Nitin used to be as a boy. But he possessed a clear moral compass that betrayed his age. It made Nitin feel slightly embarrassed about his own misspent youth in comparison.

"The universe isn't fair," Nitin said. "But it does provide beetnips I hear."

Rys stuck his finger into his mouth, miming a gag. "Uggh, I can't believe what I've been reduced to."

Judson rose from the glass pad where he'd been running the shuttle by remote – until Andra took over, that is. "I'll have his portion," he said.

Nitin tried to take stock of this man, a traitor and a deserter. He'd risked his life to smuggle medicines to an off-limits facility; but there was something deeper and darker Nitin decided beneath this cast away sailor's altruism.

George walked in, covered in grease. The youngest of the crew, Grunge was unexpectedly the one person aboard that Nitin felt the most comfortable with. The boy had a clarity of insight, as if the world around him – people included – were just pieces of machine parts to be oiled and assembled.

"Reporting as ordered, Captain," he complained.

"The engine room won't go anywhere, Grunge" Nitin said, using the kid's well-earned nickname.

"Actually," began Grunge, "I'm concerned about hull stability and there's a chance this whole ship could break in two, so technically it might go—"

"Grunge," said Nitin, "this ship's over a fifty years old and—"

"That's what I'm worried about," he claimed. "It's soooo old. Anything over thirty isn't really fit to fly."

"Oy!" shouted Shelly. "You just watch what you call old."

Shelly had been a sanctimonious pain in Nitin's side, but now he was glad she was at his side. He didn't fully agree with her priorities – hers was to intervene, his was to survive – but he'd come to see her warped world view more clearly.

"Cop's got a point," said Judson. "There's wisdom with experience."

"And joint stress, hull degradation, and fusion fatigue," said Grunge.

Andra and Shakes marched in. He carried the crate of meds and placed them at the foot of Nitin's broken hoverchair.

These two were trouble. Andra was independent and Shakes was scheming. But they actually worked well together, despite what Nitin sensed was an underlying rivalry between them.

Andra raced to her brother and smothered him in a hug.

"Well done you two," said Nitin. "You managed not to get killed and you got the meds."

Andra grinned. "And we put Kraylx out of business for a while."

"Guys," said Shelly. "Please leave the law enforcement to me."

Andra sighed and Nitin caught her rolling her eyes.

"But nice move all the same," Shelly added. "He had that coming."

Andra nodded to the lieutenant.

"Listen up, team," said Nitin. But his bridge was filled with excited chatter. He gestured to Shakes, giving him the stage for moment to call the room to attention.

Shakes leapt up on the control table and boomed, "Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend him your ears."

The bridge fell silent. Rys cupped his ears, clearly worried they were about to be sacrificed – a not uncommon ritual in old Egyptia.

Nitin took the floor. "We're still alive, the ship's intact, and everyone's back on board. But we're about to do something dangerous, borderline stupid, and I'm pretty certain illegal."

"Very illegal," Shelly confirmed.

"Our Lady of Saturn is under strict quarantine. Nobody gets in or out. There are defense beacons surrounding the hospital that will try to warn us off, and if we ignore those warnings, they will incinerate us. And I'm hazarding a guess that none of us want to be incinerated today."

Everyone shook their heads.

"That's what I thought," he confirmed. "Now, here's the play. Andra will navigate the Ghandi, drawing fire while Judson and I take the shuttle and sneak through the primary line of defense. Grunge, you'll need full power to the shields and Shelly you'll have to stop those beacons from reporting an incursion."

"They operate on a police spectrum," she said. "I can override it with my own reports."

"I'll trust that you can," said Nitin. "What will you report on to block out the signal?"

"Space dust, asteroid activity, shipping traffic. I'll bore them so senseless they won't suspect a thing."

Nitin nodded, and turned to Shakes. "Okay Bard, we need you on the comms to convince the hospital to open its doors by the time the shuttle lands. They are under orders to keep the seals shut, so you'll have to use your actor mojo to convince them otherwise."

"I call it talent," said Shakes, " but I take your meaning, sir."

"Everyone clear?" asked Nitin.

Tez raised his hand. "What of the Egyptian and Tez?" he asked.

"Back to the galley," Nitin ordered. "Table set for eight and dinner on the table by the time we're back."

"And if you don't make it back?" asked Rys.

"Re-set the table for six," said Nitin, half-joking. "Now, on we go."