Collateral Trade (7 page)

Chaya and Tian met with their father. “You passed on a mate?”

Tian was nervous about turning down the honor, but Chaya answered, “Yes, father.”

Danilo was silent for a moment, and then smiled. “I don’t blame you. I’m still hoping the decision to take fifty is not one I’ll regret.”

Months passed, and a depression seeped into the twins not joined with the Casiqua females. Though they were irritating, at least they were mates, and the time was nearing to return to Actana.

Chaya and Tian strode down the corridor towards the helm. They would take over the shift for their dark father. The fact that they were running out of time loomed in the background as a heavy weight. Danilo continued to hold onto the optimism that was deserting his sons.

Several of the Actana twins had settled. At least, that is what Chaya and Tian considered their decision to be. Why else would brothers accept a mate with only the basic requirements to be allowed into their society? Tian watched Nisanta approaching, searching the bulkhead and ceiling. He elbowed Chaya lightly in the ribs. “They’ve lost her again.”

Chaya glowered. “They spend more time searching for their mate than easing their needs training her for bonding. The profile was specific that the Casiquas would be difficult to dominate.” He watched the light twin walking towards them and scanning his surroundings, his blue eyes slightly panicked.

Chaya knew that in his emotional state, Nisanta would never be able to let his senses track her. He risked inhaling deeper, and turned his head to the right wall a few feet in front of them. Reaching a muscular arm towards the metal surface, he felt the curve of a soft breast and quickly gripped around her throat. “Open your damn eyes,” he growled.

A lavender gaze met his, filled with mischief. “This is not amusing, Ayana. I am certain your mates did not give you permission to leave their quarters.”

Tian called out, “She’s over here, Nisanta.”

Relief washed over the worried man’s features. “Thank you, Tian.” He approached Chaya, jealousy seething through him that another man should so outwardly dominate his mate. Nisanta looped the leash around Ayana’s neck and latched it.

Chaya’s dark eyes met the light twin’s stare, and he released his grip on the woman’s neck. “You should at least collar her. Some of the other brothers have done this prior to bonding ritual.”

The twins discovered that unless the women opened their eyes or mouths, they were almost impossible to find. They looked forward to their playful nature to be amusing in bed, but not when they chose to escape quarters and hide all over the ship. “We have tried this,” Nisanta replied defensively, looking at Tian for understanding. “But she withdraws into such a depressed state.”

Chaya had suspected this, though Nisanta was the first to allude to the fact that he and his dark brother might have made a hasty decision. Most twins who had accepted the species carried a slightly arrogant undertone to their demeanor, suggesting that they felt confident that at least they had found and accepted a mate.

‘Found’ was an accurate depiction of the weeklong chase through the alien spacecraft trying to locate the women. They blended in with walls, furniture, and this one, Ayana, who Chaya found attached to the viewport window with her chameleon ability an entire galaxy and their spaceship shown over her torso. Only when Chaya spied her, did her playful nature force her to shimmer and move to continue the hunting game.

Chaya took his position to study the star maps, while Tian sat in the Captain’s chair looking through the viewport at endless space of stars and galaxies. They were rounding the eastern quadrant and would soon be turning towards home.

Chaya’s dark eyes narrowed on the holographic display, following the speck mixed in among distant stars and planets with the intensity of a hunter tracking its prey. It had appeared less than an hour ago, and although it moved slowly, he was now certain it was another ship. He lifted his wrist without dropping his gaze from the chart. “Commander Danilo, please come to the bridge.”

Tian had been manning the helm, but at the sound of his brother’s voice he rose and walked over to him. “Where?” To call their father to the bridge during his recuperative shift meant Chaya had found something of great interest. Tian’s blue eyes lit with excitement at his brother’s discovery. “It is a ship,” he whispered, wishing he could pull the sighting in closer.

Chapter III

After two years in space the Manerea was faltering, though only a select few were aware of the fact. The ‘select few’ were the Commander, the Division Officers, and the members of the Elite Decision Board.

“Supply report?” Jerome requested.

“We have tiered the plants through two sections, but the soil is depleting. Synthetic nutrients are not sustaining the vegetables to full size. We tried an attempt at hydroponics with dismal results.” Dr. Terar scanned his finger across his tablet. “Even if our population remains consistent, at the rate our food is decreasing we will be forced to cut back portions within three months.”

“Water is still no problem,” the man next to him replied. “Only one of the condensers shut down, and we have been utilizing its parts to repair the other four.”

“Engine report?”

“Nothing has changed.” The Engine Officer sounded more bored than upset.
Hell, and why not? I’ve been giving the same damn report for two years.
“We have neither the materials nor fuel to re-ignite the fusion engine. The propellant for our backup engine is running low, though we have worked with Supply to alter some withered food waste for fuel.” The Officer shrugged. “It gums up the engine, but so far it has kept us moving.”
Albeit at a snail’s pace. The landing engine is not designed to propel this monster except for launch and landing.

A tick irritated the corner of Jerome’s eye. “Navigation report?”
Shit, someone please give me some bit of good news.

“We are still more than two light-years from Adam One. There are no sightings of an aclimatable planet that can support us. They either lack atmosphere, water, or the ability to sustain plant-life. We have seen no ships, friendly or otherwise.” Joseph was bored replying the same information. The only situation that had changed over the past two years was the depressing news about their impending food shortage.

“So basically, we’re fucked,” Jerome summed up.

“We could try sending shuttles searching again,” Joseph suggested.

“If there is nothing visible through the viewport, it would waste what little fuel we have.” Jerome ran his fingers through his gray hair. It was no longer threaded with black, though he refused to admit the concerns over the mission had aged him. He did not have to. The Board members could see it.

One potential advantage on Adam One was that the planet lacked pollutants. According to tests, the atmosphere would enhance longevity, and Jerome counted on his lifespan doubling. The fusion engine was supposed to transport them to Adam One within a year, and now Jerome was scrambling for any solution to get out of the overcrowded tin can that had become his home.

The engines lasted long enough to propel them far enough from Earth and not close enough to Adam One to make either destination feasible. They continued on their original course to save the fuel required for turning. The Engine Officer doubted they had enough left to land anywhere, so what the hell did it matter?

Jerome rested his hands on the table. “I think we need to seriously consider evaluation.”

“We still might be able to fix the engine.”

“And I have the new crew working on methods to enhance the food supply.” Dr. Terar despised acknowledging it was his division delivering the news that hammered the last nail in the coffin. He had designed his program for efficiency in the small space allotted to him, and for a crew of one hundred. With a one-year journey, he had increased production requirements to a year and a half to allow them time to replant on planet.

For some reason, the board elected not to tell him the crew number would be two thousand. His scientists’ amazing production kept food supplied for the massive increase. The original plants continued to feed the crew for an additional six months passed his projection. All this, and still his division was the ultimate reason for failure. If he could find out which asshole screwed up their estimation on fuel, he would personally feed the bastard to the damn fusion engine.

Now, Dr. Terar made adjustments to train new workers transferred from other divisions with no research background. It was based on the outrageous and unlikely hope that new eyes might recognize an obvious failure his researchers overlooked.

“You’ve been giving me the same reports for two years, with the exception that plants are not producing as well.” Jerome stared at the botanist’s weary, defeated expression. “I detect no more feigned excitement that synthetics are remotely close to discovery, and if we wait too long there will not be enough food left to support an evaluated crew.” Jerome sat back with a measure of relief at finally announcing his decision. It might save the remaining passengers until they found a habitable planet, and he was confident it was the only course left to them. The bonus to the plan was that everyone at the table automatically passed.

“Form preliminary lists for your divisions, and then hand them to Manny. We’ll weed them down to the one hundred this tank was meant to hold.” Jerome stood. “We’ll meet again in two weeks.”

No one needed to be told the secrecy. To cut back the crew on board to one hundred people meant disposing of almost two thousand. The threat of automatic evaluation for causing panic sealed gossiping lips. Manny could work out the psychological profile necessary for those remaining onboard. Jerome was damned if he would spend the rest of his life in space with a bunch of self-recriminating morons he had saved.

Jerome walked to his quarters, acknowledging the salutes and inquiries to the meeting. Less frequently than the weeks following launch, he caught a glimpse of a single finger salute or a whispered curse. He watched young workers slide down the chutes to the lab level. Ninety percent of them would be sacrificed. He was almost sixty years old, but he would survive to continue with the necessary strength and experience to rule.

“Janella, wait up.” A tall young woman brushed by him. “Good evening, Chairman.”
King Poopah looks worried. Eyes and ears open, girl.

The woman’s voice dripped ice and Jerome realized it was the pretty girl he considered trading Nika in for. Sharell, something. Even at the lure of accepting her transfer to Navigation, she had turned him down. He stuck her in plant research.

Janella had one foot in the chute. “Hurry, Sharell, we’ve got three minutes to get to shift.”

Sharell turned to look at the Chairman while she climbed into the chute. “Something’s going on.”

“You’ve been saying that for weeks and I’m not hearing any rumors.”

Sharell gripped the tail of her black braid and folded her arms under her breasts. After a quick ride, she slid onto the lower deck. She and Janella were both tall, and they used every inch of their long stride to move down the corridor and make it to the lab with a few seconds to spare.

“Did you really put in for Navigation again?” Janella asked.

“Yes, they were presenting it two days ago, but I haven’t heard anything.” Sharell was bored with the test tubes and constant failures of her attempts in the lab. She was not alone. No one seemed to be having success with new variants of nutrients, and the plants in second tier looked pathetic. Dr. Terar hinted that first tier was doing well. They were banned from the experienced scientists’ nursery, or they would have seen that the brainiacks’ plants were almost as pitiful.

After shift, they walked back to their room. It was originally two large closets for the cabins on each side, but with the extra crew Sharell removed the wall, sealed the doors, and made an entrance to the corridor. They knew they were lucky. Most of the ‘extra payload’ had to live in dorms built in the cafeteria, meeting rooms, and extra supply rooms popping up as they ran out of things.

Janella dropped onto her mattress. They each had a thin pad on the floor on opposite sides of the space, and other than an original closet rod they were the only furnishings. For two years, this had been their private world. They had to use the communal women’s showers and facilities at the end of the corridor.

Bitching was non-existent, or at least not spoken out loud. Security clearly defined no allowances for any hearing or higher power to complain to. Few people screwed up, and the rest learned it resulted in demotion to worse living circumstances. There were also crewmembers that went sort of nuts and were confined in a room off the shuttlebay. One had been there for over a year, and Manny had given up his weekly meetings with them.

One thing was damn sure: they were not going home again. The two women tried to make the best of the situation and hoped they would find a planet or something soon. Anything to get off the ship.

“Matt was caught in a supply closet with Tammy.”

Sharell winced with the burst of memory. He had been the last man she had been with the night before the launch. She continued to stare blankly at her reading tablet. “And?” She felt a flutter of excitement in her stomach and an automatic spasm through regions below.

“He was demoted out of Maintenance to Textile Supply, and Tammy was sent to the other side of the ship. She’s not allowed to cross over without an escort, and her Medic pass was pulled. I heard she was demoted to Cleaning.”

“No shit?”

“It’s a stupid rule. Why don’t they just slip birth control into the food or something?” Janella suggested.

“They say they don’t know the long term affects with the artificial atmosphere, and they don’t want everyone sterilized. King Poopah won’t have anyone to rule when we land if no one can have kids.” Most of this was rumor, because none of her friends without fancy college degrees knew the difference between a real and an artificial atmosphere. As far as they were concerned, air was air… unless, as infrequently happened, a gas line broke or a lab bug escaped.