Horny Gold

Hey ya'll, Dakota here with another episode of my sci-fi adventure series. I think this episode encapsulates what this series is going to be about. It's got action, adventure, world-building, a little comedy, and plenty of, ahem, "adult activities." I think, with this episode, I found the blend of themes it's going to have moving forward. Please let me know what you think down in the comments. I was rather blown away by the reception the first episode received, and I'm going to work hard to not disappoint.

The jaunt from Port Ever Evening to Arcadia would take over a month. The glassy blue world was situated nicely around a stable yellow-G star and was one of the more Earth-like planets to have been colonized so far. It was also relatively new, having been discovered and its flight path charted just after the end of the war.

Now that the Hornigold was officially named and registered, Erwin Wu could advertise it. To make the initial leg of this trade mission at least a little profitable, he advertised it as offering a one-way trip to Arcadia for passengers. The ship was not necessarily built with passenger transport in mind; she was not as fast as a zip-cruiser or as luxurious as a Nova-class liner. She was a repurposed military ship first and foremost, and despite the Hornigold's various upgrades, her fare reflected that.

The first passenger to sign on was a drifter tradesman named Cam Hackett. He was a gruff but polite pseudo-spacer, experienced in habitat construction. He was hitching a ride to sign on to one of the many infrastructure projects going on in that system. He paid the fare upfront without haggling and disappeared into his quarters with a single heavy bag, likely containing his only possessions.

The next passenger was a xenobiologist doing fieldwork. Lucia Lei was a pretty, albeit severe, academic type. She had razor-straight black hair up in a tight bun and wore glasses that seemed almost a required uniform for her kind. She carried a big potted plant, some sort of fern, in a self-contained hydroponic pod.

Though he didn't mean to, Wu typecasted her almost immediately. Scientists were an annoyingly ubiquitous category among the working stiffs of deep space. They were everywhere, poking their noses into everything. They tended to be passive observers, more concerned with categorizing the endless discoveries of the colony worlds than with the practical skills required for living in the Big Black. Often educated in atmospheres, many were clumsy like children in space; apt to miss a seal leak on their suit or disregard basic safety protocols due to their rushing around. Doctor Lei seemed a little better in that regard, maybe due to her relative youth and inexperience. She seemed well aware of her limitations, but Wu made a note to keep an eye on her.

The third and fourth passengers were a young couple, Lance and Gem Revas. They were traveling to Arcadia to settle.

Wu thought they looked painfully naive, although their doting sweetness couldn't be denied. Lance was lean with a classic helmet shave that he kept long; a top knot braid of black hair that distracted from his already weary face. But his haggard appearance and sunken eyes made it clear that whatever work contract he'd had was a brutal one. There was no shortage of shit jobs on stations.

Gem seemed the more earnest of the two. She was quiet, even shy, tending to whisper to her husband instead of speaking up for herself. Wu didn't get much of a sense of her when they signed on. If she wanted to be as quiet as a vhermid with a cold, Wu wasn't going to complain.

"All right," Wu announced, once everyone was on board and gathered in the galley. "First, welcome aboard the Hornigold. I will be your captain for the duration of your stay here. Iana, over there, is my second-in-command. And over there is Alma Paige. She's our ensign and medic. What we say goes. I'm sure this isn't your first trip in the Big Black, but a few ground rules are warranted. One, this is not a pleasure cruise. You are expected to fulfill duties as assigned, same as any working ship. I assure you, these won't be onerous, so don't fret. Second, because we are also a trading vessel, the cargo hold will be off-limits unless you have an escort. Other areas prohibited are the armory, the bridge, and the medical bay unless you are escorted by one of us. Third, meals will be at regular times. Again, we're not a pleasure cruise, so if you miss 'em that's on you. There's no room service here."

"Do we look like flatlander skags, bossman?" Cam asked, clearly annoyed.

"No. But I don't feel like arguing when we're halfway to Arcadia because someone can't follow the basics."

Cam grunted. "No problem from me, bossman. Excuse it, then. I'll be bunking down early."

Wu nodded, and the spacer shuffled off gracefully despite his size and stern appearance.

The scientist, Lucia Lei, raised her hand politely.

"Yeah?" Wu pointed at her.

"Will we have access to any of the comm nodes between here and Arcadia?"

Wu looked toward the synth. "XO?"

"That shouldn't pose an issue," Iana jumped in.

"Why do you ask?" Wu couldn't help but feel a twinge of suspicion toward the young, pretty scientist.

"It's silly," Lucia said. "I recently submitted large data packets of my research to the university I represent. I'm eager to see the response of my colleagues."

Transstellar communication was still a giant pain in the ass at the best of times. During the war, a lot of money had been poured into making a network of communication nodes that could transmit information across systems like a series of falling dominoes, sending and receiving vast amounts of data in a fraction of the time as the old, slow data ships. It wasn't a perfect system, as the nodes were prone to malfunction, but it allowed communication among the settled planets over days instead of weeks.

"We can do flybys as we move toward Acardia's system. Good enough?"

Lucia nodded. "Thank you."

"What's your research in?" Iana asked.

"Evolutionarily adapted poisons of the Gracick family of cordates in the central desert region of Citadel."

"So light reading?" Lance Revas asked with a derisive snort. It seemed Wu wasn't alone in his distrust of the science-types.

"Only if you consider exotic neurotoxins to be light reading," Lucia said with a chortle, seemingly unaware of his sarcasm. "They're fascinating, actually. The planet's biochemistry is vastly different from ours or the other habitable worlds we've studied. Wildly different amino acid profile, they use a genetic system of six nucleotides instead of four, life there shouldn't be able to interact much with us on the micro level, but--"

"Sounds very interesting," Lance said dismissively. "I won't bother you for the details."

"Anyway," Wu said. "We're about to get underway. It's about a day's push to the first jump."

Lance took the hint, nodded, and led his wife to their quarters.

With the passengers out of the way, Wu did another lap around the ship. The outfitting by Yuri Chavez was basic but more than adequate for the Hornigold. Several suits of tac-armor now hung in the armory, along with a few rifles, shotguns, sidearms, and a box of ship-safe grenades. This was in addition to the hot weapon loadout for the frigate herself. The Hornigold, though originally a military frigate, had long ago been modified away from that purpose. She was back in a fighting stance. Her torpedo bays were full, and she now sported a new railgun, albeit an older model, courtesy of Yuri Chavez and the Colonial Defense Force. She wasn't invincible by any means, but she wasn't a pushover either.

The cargo hold now had a large water tank in it, with all the bells and whistles to create aquatic environments for the transport of live creatures. It was an expensive upgrade, but one that would pay for itself given the prices of such cargo. Though it was too early to tell, Wu wondered if this might be his niche as a trader.

The hold also contained several crates of basic supplies, mostly food, marked for delivery to a research station along the route to Arcadia. It was a fairly minor gig, the CDF covering a nominal fee, but it was small jobs like this that would lead to more lucrative gigs later.

Between the passengers, the station supplies, and Sy Lee's shopping list, Wu figured his little venture was off to a good start.

Not bad at all, he thought.

***

***

They disembarked with Wu taking the first shift at the helm.

The piloting of ships in the age of advanced computer systems and AI was a relatively boring task. The most important aspect was to keep track of the routes of other ships. Space was big, but that didn't mean that these huge hunks of metal didn't occasionally run into each other. Especially near the jump sites.

Wu kept the boredom at bay by busying himself with other tasks. He was a business owner now and needed to act like it. That meant running numbers, keeping logs, doing inventories, and running cost-benefit analyses. This was a new world to him, and he approached it cautiously but with the enthusiasm of a new hobby.

When Iana came to relieve him several hours later, he felt like he was just getting going.

"You know I can hold the helm indefinitely?" she asked. "It'll free you up to do other things."

"Thanks, but no," Wu replied. "I'd feel I was taking advantage of you. Besides, doing multiple things at once helps me stay organized up here." Wu tapped his head.

"That doesn't make sense. Doing one task until completion is usually optimal for productivity."

"Only if you're a synth," Wu said with a teasing grin. "When you can string several tasks together in moments. Besides, it's not about productivity. Most of this stuff," he motioned to the several screens he was working on, "is ongoing. There is no end to it. Not exactly."

"Busy work," she said with a snort. "You're giving yourself busy work."

"The Hornigold is technically a registered joint stock company. We're a corporation. Busy work is what they do."

"Whatever, silly meat sack. Move it. You are relieved." Iana shooed him from his seat, and Wu closed out of the several programs he was using before relinquishing it.

He stood with a stretch and shuffled off the bridge, descending the central ladder to the galley level.

There, he found Lucia Lei hunched over her tablet, a half-eaten package of protein puffs seemingly ignored next to her. Wu smiled. It seemed busy work was contagious.

He grabbed a bulb of coffee and tasked himself with doing a lap around the ship. His anxiety was at work, sure, but he needed to learn every nook and cranny. He moved through her levels, inspecting panels, checking readouts, and looking for anything in need of attention.

He found Alma in the med bay.

"Sir," she said in a curt greeting.

Wu almost replied with something stupid like not to call him sir. No, a little formality was good.

"Ensign," he returned with a nod. "What are you working on here?"

Half the cabinets in the med bay were open with supplies scattered around.

"Taking inventory. Reorganizing," she said bluntly. She put down the box of gauze and looked up. "You said to make this place my own."

"That I did."

"Tell me then, did you stock this initially?"

"A little. Some of it was here when I bought her. Some were from tagged crates from when we rescued you. Those had originally been on Iana's ship when those same skags attacked her crew. Since she was the only surviving member, they technically still belonged to her."

"I see," Alma said with a short nod.

"Problem?"

"Not immediately. We're just lop-sided."

"Lop-sided?"

"Yeah. We have a lot of extra stuff we don't need and only a little of what we do. Like this," she held up a box Wu couldn't immediately read. "These are sutures, right? About a hundred packs per box. We have eight. That's enough for a battlecruiser. And this," she pointed to another box, sitting on top of the autodoc, "those are vials of atropine. That's for organophosphate poisoning. Again, enough for everyone on board times three."

"Okay, but you never know," Wu said with a shrug.

"Sure. Fine. Whatever. But the thing is, we only have a single case of derma-skin. How often have you been burned working near plasma coils?"

"I take your point. Too little of what we'd use often, too much of what we'd use little of. Make your shopping list. When we hit Arcadia, you get what we need."

"Just like that?"

"Sure, why not?"

Alma blew a raspberry. "On one of my ships--not the last, mind you--I had to submit a request to my doc, who had to forward it to the quartermaster, who had to run it by the budget officer, and then get final approval from the XO."

"Sounds inefficient."

"It was a pain in the ass, sir."

"Well, tell you what, you're the final word in this med bay. You handle it. Just keep me in the loop with the stuff you think I ought to know. Other than that, do your thing."

Alma looked at him as if trying to decide if he was serious. "You're really trusting me with all that?"

"I'll trust you until you give me reason not to. Fair enough?"

"Yes, sir."

***

***

The alarm woke him on the first klaxon.

On the second, he was out of bed.

On the third, he was halfway up his ladder onto the bridge.

"Status?" he asked.

Iana was at the helm, stone-still as she studied readouts and instruments. "Unclear. There seems to be a problem with the oxygen reclamation system, but everything I'm reading on this end is green."

"Damnit, we're not even out of the system yet." Wu reached over and silenced the alarm.

"We also don't have a camera down there," Iana added.

"It's not usually necessary with all the feedback sensors. Besides, the CDF figured out a while ago that putting cameras all over their ships was counterproductive. Privacy is precious out here, and spying on your own crew took a lot of time, energy, and resources better spent elsewhere."

"I spied on my crew all the time."

"Yeah, but you were a sentient ship AI. I bet you had to use infrared and air pressure readings to 'see' in the crew's quarters."

"Yeah? But still."

"Okay, I'll check it out."

"Take Hatred."

"Absolutely not. Your murderbot stays tucked away until there's something that needs... murdering."

With that, Wu was off. He slid down the central ladder ten levels to the bottom in the practiced grace of a life in space. He caught a glimpse of the confused face of Lucia as she poked her head out of her room.

The engine room was a bit of a misnomer. The engine did not sit inside, but it could be accessed, one way or another, from there. Instead, the level contained life-support systems, power inverters, and a whole litany of tech that made life aboard a floating tin can possible.

He found Cam Hackett almost immediately.

The gruff spacer was wearing an emergency rebreather. Inside the mask, he was wild-eyed.

Before he could ask the spacer what the hell he was doing down at the engine level, Cam put a finger up.

"Bossman, you smell that?"

Wu did. It was subtle but unmistakable; a fragrant, hot smell he was very familiar with.

"Ozone," he said. A twinge of fear ran down his spine.

"I figured you were no dirt-sider," Cam said.

Wu was already looking around for the source. An ozone leak meant a problem with the liquid oxygen system. That was integral to several other systems, including the atmosphere and heat regulation. Not to mention that any leak that put anything other than nitrogen and oxygen in the interior of the ship was a big fucking problem.

Ozone was a byproduct of several chains of chemical reactions involving O2 that turned it into the heavier and way less stable O3. At high enough concentrations, it was dangerous to organic life, being a strong oxidative agent like acids.

It could also react explosively.

Wu went to the com panel. "XO, I need you to seal off levels eight, nine, and ten. Right now. It's an ozone leak."

"I can be down there in a moment," came her reply. "I won't be affected."

"No time. Do it now, then run the scrubbers on high for the rest of the cabin."

The bulkhead door shut above them, the ladder partially separating and retracting to make room for the blast doors. No argument. Good.

Cam grunted in nihilistic approval. He had already found the panel with emergency rebreathers and passed one to Wu. "Why three levels?"

"Engineering is on eight. We'll need tools." Wu slid the rebreather over his head and did a quick test. Ozone wasn't overtly poisonous, but at high enough levels, it could scar up your lungs. "But before we get to work, you mind telling me what you were doing down here?"

Cam was silent for a moment, his face partially hidden by the mask of the rebreather. When he didn't reply immediately, Wu steadied himself for a fight.

"My pops," the spacer started. "He served on a frigate like this. Told stories. Taught me ships. A hard man, my pops. But he always said that these Spear frigates were the finest ships made by man. When I signed with you, it was because of this ship. I..."

"You wanted a tour," Wu finished.

"I'm no tourist, eh. Just wanted to see what he saw."

"And did you?"

"He never mentioned the oxy system failing."

"Yeah, fancy that. Now that we're here, I hope he taught you well."

***

***

It only took a few minutes to identify where the leak was and only a few more to shut it off. Atmo scrubbers would do the heavy lifting of removing it, but ozone was also unstable enough that much would simply degrade into good ole O2.

The problem was the leak itself.

Cam and he had to remove and replace a section of flexible thermal tubing, unscrewing either end from the two systems it connected. The tubing had a small tear at the base of one end, barely perceptible but enough to slowly fill the cabin with the gas.

A quick trip to the fabricator and a replacement was made in minutes.

"XO," Wu said into the intercom. "How are we looking?"

"All green on my end," Iana replied. "Levels are low enough that the ozone will degrade down into oxygen. Scrubbers will be done in about thirty minutes. You can come out now."

Wu held on to the damaged piece of tubing, rolling it over in his hands. Thermal tubing was tough while still being flexible and was commonly used to allow the flow of cryogenic gases like liquid hydrogen to move between the systems that used them. In all his time on ships, he'd never heard of them spontaneously tearing.

It was old, he told himself. Just an old piece missed in the various upgrades and overhauls.

Wu put it on his growing list of projects for the near future. If he had to personally inspect every centimeter of thermal tubing in the ship, that was fine by him.

"Close call to vacuum, eh, bossman?" Cam said over his shoulder.

"Close enough," Wu replied. "Thank you for your help. Seems I have some inspecting to do."

"Thermal lines run in all areas of her, yeah? Old line in one spot, same throughout. Lucky the first tear came at the O3 line and not the ethylene glycol ones."

"That's my fear too," Wu admitted.

"Is green now. I'll run it over myself in the upper levels. Inspect, replace."

"Not your job."

The spacer shrugged. "Not asking for one. Just would prefer to make it to Arcadia with air in my lungs."

Wu nodded. Spacers were a hardy bunch that understood more than most how inhospitable space was. They'd developed a culture where every person on a ship was expected to pull their weight regardless of what their official responsibilities were.

"Fine-tooth comb," Wu said with a nod, accepting the help.

Iana was waiting for him on the bridge.

"Question: Did you suffer a head injury that I am unaware of in the last few hours?"