Fantasy Starship Gods

​

Forward: The Court Martial​

"What does God need with a starship?"

The prosecutor, Lieutenant Commander Julia Fuller, let the question hang in the air for a moment. Then she said, "Did anyone on PR-52981 ever ask you that?"

Survey Service Lieutenant Michael Taylor coughed nervously. "No ma'am. In fact, their prophesy suggested that their god, their gods, would arrive on a fiery silver chariot."

"Which you led them to believe was the USS Asgard," said Lieutenant Commander Fuller.

"Yes ma'am," said Taylor.

"As you also led the natives of PR-52981 to believe that you and the survivors of the Asgard were gods," said Fuller.

"Well... yes ma'am... but... very reluctantly," said Taylor again.

"Very reluctantly," said Fuller, glaring at him. "And then you proceeded to.. very reluctantly impersonate their deities, and rule over them like gods. Is that correct, Lieutenant Taylor?"

"Well, in a way... Commander," said Taylor, biting his lip.

"In a way? Did you or did you not impersonate their deities on PR-52981?"

"I... I suppose I did. We all did," said Taylor.

"You are the one on trial, Lieutenant," said Fuller sharply. "You ordered the population to obey your every command, did you not, Lieutenant?"

"I did," Taylor said.

"You ordered them to turn over their wealth to you, did you not?"

"Well, we did initiate a modest revenue enhancement program-"

"A yes or no, Lieutenant."

"Well, that would be yes, then," said Taylor.

"You ordered them to worship you, did you not?"

"Well, no... not ordered," said Taylor.

"What then?" Fuller asked. "Did you, while impersonating their gods, merely suggest they worship you?"

"I never really asked for it," said Taylor. "It was more... implied. You might say it came with the job."

There was muffled laughter in the courtroom.

Fuller gave Taylor a skeptical look. "You exercised absolute authority over the native population, did you not?"

"I... I guess I did," said Taylor reluctantly.

"You even, using this authority, ordered native women to service you in ways that violated Section 293.4 of the United Survey Service Code of Conduct."

Commander Fuller glared at Taylor. Taylor was studiously silent.

"We're waiting for your answer, Lieutenant Taylor."

"Oh, was that a question? I'm sorry, Commander," said Taylor, sweating profusely. He, paused, licking his lips. "Can you repeat the question again?"

Fuller's eyes flared. "Lastly, and most seriously, is it true that when the population rebelled against your rule, you purposefully flew the USS Asgard low over the population, fired up the thrusters, and burned thousands of people to their deaths?"

Taylor bit his lip, but said nothing.

Fuller said, "Your Honor, the witness is refusing to answer the question."

"Lieutenant Taylor, you will answer the question," said the military judge sternly.

Taylor paused, looking at the audience, and then at the jury. "Yes," he whispered.

There was more than one gasp from the crowd.

"How many thousands did you kill, Lieutenant? Five thousand? Ten thousand? More?"

"I don't know," said Taylor, in a small voice. "I was not able to count them."

"Well, could it have been five thousand?"

"Yes."

"Could it have been ten thousand?"

"Yes."

"Possibly more than ten thousand?"

Taylor paused. "Possibly."

There was a gasp from the audience again.

Commander Fuller to turned to the military tribunal. "Your honors, it is clear that Lieutenant Michael Taylor broke numerous Codes of Regulations regarding contact with less developed civilizations. He has admitted to the most serious crime, of mass genocide against an entire culture. Given the extreme nature of his violations, I ask you to impose the most severe penalty." And she glared at Taylor as she said it. "Death."

Taylor felt like he was going to faint. How had he landed in this situation? It seemed, every step of the way, that he had had no choice. He had been forced into it. If only they knew the true story, of what really happened that year on PR-52981....

​

The Stellar Ribbon​

Fifteen Months Earlier

Michael Taylor wasn't happy.

After two years serving as an Ensign in the United Survey Service, he had been promoted to Lieutenant. It had been right after the skirmish with the Rissican pirates. Captain Carillies had been impressed with his performance in the heat of combat, and written him up for a commendation. That recommendation, combined with his past service, had earned him a promotion.

But the USS Tangio didn't need another Lieutenant. So Taylor was transferred to the USS Asgard.

A merchant ship.

The United Survey Service was a little bit of everything:

1) It was a military force.

2) It was also an exploratory and mapping service, as the name suggested.

3) And it was also a search and rescue service.

4) But it also was a cargo hauling service.

As one of its secondary functions, the Survey Service hauled cargoes, especially through less travelled routes which traditional shippers didn't find economical to service. The Service operated a small merchant marine fleet, and one of those ships was the Asgard.

The USS Asgard wasn't a happy ship. Captain Cargon was near the end of his Survey Service career. He had been repeatedly passed up for appointments to military and explorer class ships. He was whittling away his remaining years to retirement on cargo runs, and he didn't enjoy it.

Neither did Lieutenant Taylor, for the same reasons. He hadn't joined the Survey Service to haul produce over light years. It would seem, then, given their similar attitudes, that Lieutenant Taylor and his new captain would get along well.

Nothing could be farther from the truth. Cargon immediately sensed that his new Lieutenant wasn't happy about his new assignment, but rather than sympathizing with the young officer, felt antagonism towards him.

When Taylor first arrived on the Asgard and reported to the Captain, Cargon didn't even bother to meet Taylor in private. He spoke to him while running ship operations on the bridge.

"Chief, what's going on?" said Cargon, speaking on the comm. "We were supposed to get out of spacedock six hours ago."

"The replacement parts just came in an hour ago. And we barely got half of what we needed," came the voice over the comm.

"I don't want excuses, Chief," said Cargon sharply. Suddenly, he noticed Taylor, who, having just arrived on the bridge, waited patiently to get his new Captain's attention.

"You the new guy?"

The new guy? What Survey Service officer spoke like that?

Taylor nodded and opened his mouth to speak, but Cargon cut him off. "Just one moment, you." He turned back to his comm. "Chief, look out a window. What do you see?"

"I see Space Station Victor," said the Chief.

"And what do you think people on the space station see when they look out their own windows?"

"....us, sir?"

"Good Chief! And what do I tell them when they ask why we're still here?" Cargon asked.

"I'm working as fast as I can, sir," came the voice of the Chief.

"Work faster," said Cargon, slamming the comm shut.

His comm officer tried to get his attention. "I don't want to hear it," said Cargon. "You, the new guy. Is this how you report to your new posting?"

Taylor, immediately on the defensive, wondered what he had done wrong. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off again.

"Sailor, right?"

"Taylor, sir," said Taylor, finally managing to get a word in.

"Close enough," said Cargon. "We have a spare station in the corner. You can use that to access the computer library. Think you can handle that?"

Handle that? It sounded like he was being given a post with no duties. Taylor opened his mouth to speak again, but this time was cut off by the comm officer.

"Sir, I really think-"

"I don't pay you to think," Cargon snapped.

"But it's Admiral Menendez!" said the comm officer. "He wants to know why we haven't gotten underway."

Cargon looked at the ceiling and tried to restrain himself. They were supposed to have launched six hours ago on a routine cargo run to Ramada, delivering some agricultural equipment and then bringing some produce back to Space Station Victor. He turned to the comm officer and said, "Tell Jose to get off my back. Tell him he'll get his chili peppers on time."

"Really, sir?" the comm officer asked.

"Of course not! Are you a complete fool?" said Cargon. "Tell him we're getting under way now!" He pressed a button. "Chief, can this tub move?"

"I wouldn't recommend it, Captain," came the Chief's voice.

"Will the ship explode if we start to move?" Cargon asked, speaking very slowly, as if to a child.

"Well, no, but-"

"That's all I want to know," said Cargon. He made eye contact with the navigator. "Take us out. Now."

Cargon suddenly noticed Taylor again. "Why are you still standing there? Get to your post, mister!"

The ship shuddered as it slowly began to move.

The Asgard was not a happy ship.
​

********​

Cargon, while the Captain of the Asgard, technically was of the rank of Commander, but as the commanding officer of a spacefaring ship, he was referred to as Captain. His first officer was Lieutenant Commander Boyega, and beneath him was Lieutenant Baylis, the Chief Engineer, and the navigator, Lieutenant Davis. The crew consisted of five officers (including Taylor) and fourteen crewmen.

But the ship also carried passengers. While the Asgard was not a liner, it went to obscure places like Ramada which didn't get a lot of ship traffic. People booked passage on Survey Service ships if they needed to get to places where no one else went.

Taylor met some of the passengers at dinner. There was Naomi Weinberg and Pamela Bloomberg, two friends from college who were going on vacation to Ramada. There were a trio of friends in their 30's, Brianna Lindsay, Kyrsten Hymen, and McKenzie Risella, who were also traveling there for the same reason. A very attractive woman named Alexis Herman also claimed to be going to Ramada for tourism, though she didn't look anything like a tourist. Then there was Khalid, Ahmed, and Chaka, brothers from Ramada who were returning home. Tara McCallister was an agro scientist who was going to study soil conditions on La Honda, making a ship to ship connection at Ramada. Father Edvard Sanduval and his daughter Kristiana were also catching a connecting flight at Ramada, one which would take them home to New Scandia. Then there was an older black man named Samuel Thomas, a galaxy renown philosopher, who was just along for the ride. And lastly was an interesting pair, Liam Parnell, and a woman in a Marshal's uniform, Miranda Sorensen.

"Careful," said Liam, as Taylor sat down next to him. He held up his hands, and Taylor saw he was wearing electrocuffs. "I'm a serial killer," said Liam. "You're taking a big risk sitting next to me, mister."

Taylor didn't quite know what to make of the silver haired Liam with his exaggerated facial expressions, or the cuffs he wore. He looked at Miranda Sorenson, the Marshal, and she rolled her eyes.

"All right," she said, gesturing for Liam to raise his hands.

Liam obeyed, raising the binders high, and Miranda pressed a button on her belt, and the cuffs snapped open. "Thank you," said Liam, taking them off and rubbing his wrists.

Taylor still looked hesitantly at the man sitting just inches away from him. "Is he really-"

"Yes, a serial killer," said Liam. "I've murdered dozens of people. I've raped even more. I've committed genocide on a planetary scale. I'm the most wanted man on-"

"Enough," said Miranda wearily. "Liam, I told you I had to keep the cuffs on you until we left the station. If you promise to behave, I'll leave you unfettered until we get to Ramada."

"Until we get to my execution," said Liam, rubbing his wrists.

"The Ramadans have promised not to execute you," said Miranda. "That was the condition of the extradition."

"And you believe them?" said Liam. "I'll be in an unmarked grave a day after I arrive. Do you know how they execute people?"

"What is it you've done?" Taylor asked, interrupting him.

"Nothing uncommon. Nothing loathsome. Certainly not anything that deserves death," said Liam. "I merely had the misfortune to advise people to make investments which unfortunately didn't generate the expected rate of returns, which is a risk anyone faces in the galactic marketplace."

"You sold shares in a uranium mine that didn't have any uranium," said Miranda.

"No provable reserves, admittedly. But we cannot prove the absence of uranium either," said Liam.

"You also sold shares in a company which didn't exist," said Miranda.

"A company I was told was in the process of issuing an initial public offering. I was every bit as much swindled as my clients were," said Liam.

"You sold people shares of ownership in 70 Ophiuchi D," said Miranda.

"You sold people shares of ownership... of a planet?"

"Not as odd as it sounds," said Liam. "I met a very sincere miner who assured me he had acquired all the mineral rights to the entire planet. It was worth a fortune. But unfortunately, he was slightly undercapitalized. I simply tried to help out a friend, while opening the door to lucrative returns for others."

"The Ramadans want him for 19 counts of fraud."

"Punishable by death. The same punishment for most crimes on Ramada, I might add," Liam added.

The Ramadans Khalid, Ahmed, and Chaka turned to give Liam an icy stare. They were big, bearded men, who looked like trouble.

"Which I'm sure in most cases is entirely justified," Liam hastily added.

"I've heard the terrible propaganda about Ramada," said Naomi Weinberg. "It's all lies. It's a wonderful, vibrant culture. I'm going there to learn more about it."

Chaka, one of the Ramadans, gave Naomi a furtive looking over. He liked what he saw. Naomi was a young, busty 24 year old brunette.

"The Ramadans worship Laquinta, the God of Blood," said a new voice. They turned to see Samuel Thomas, a black man in his late 50's or early 60's. Thomas was famous in intellectual circles. He was considered the father of modern Objective Rationalism. "They still do human sacrifices, so I hear," he said.

"Not so," said Khalid, the eldest brother, speaking for the first time. "You are misinformed. Blood sacrifices stopped over 200 years ago."

"I saw a documentary last year that still showed it going on."

Khalid waved his hand dismissively. "A few extremists. The off-planet media use them to tar our entire religion. It's a disgrace."

"A disgrace," his brother, Chaka, agreed, speaking in an equally deep voice.

Naomi looked up at Chaka and smiled.

"Well, gentlemen, we'll get to Ramada in nine days, and then you can see for yourself," said Captain Cargon.

"Nine days?" said McKenzie Risella. "I thought we were getting there in six!"

"Yes, well, we're having some mechanical difficulties with the FTL drive," said Cargon.

"We were promised delivery in six," said McKenzie stubbornly.

"Unfortunately, the Asgard is not a ship of the line," said Cargon, staring intently at his glass of wine. "It's a broken down transport which should have been retired years ago. But merchant ships aren't exactly the highest priority in the Survey Service. Are they, Lieutenant Taylor?"

Taylor looked startled. It felt like Cargon knew he was unhappy to be aboard, and he resented Taylor's resentment. Taylor simply shrugged his shoulders.

"A most judicious non-answer, Lieutenant," said Cargon, pausing to take a drink of his wine. "You'll make a fine senior officer some day. Unfortunately, not on a military or explorer class vessel. No, once you get sent to the merchant service, you're stuck there for life, like a fly stuck in a sticky trap. You didn't know that, did you, Lieutenant? How does that make you feel?"

Taylor noticed that Cargon seemed more than a little inebriated.

"I'm happy to serve the Service, Captain," he said cautiously.

"Spoken like a newly minted Lieutenant," said Cargon, raising his glass to toast Taylor. "But how will you feel when you're a Lieutenant on this rust bucket for a year, two years, five years, and then more? Maybe you won't be quite so diplomatic then."

Taylor excused himself, to Cargon's laughter. He felt unsettled, possibly as Cargon had intended.

Outside the mess hall he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was the Chief.

"Don't let him get to you," said Lieutenant Baylis. "He's a bitter old man. You've got your whole career ahead of you."

"Thanks," said Taylor.

Another day passed. Taylor found himself restless in his duties. To be blunt, he had no duties to perform of any kind. Cargon kept him slightly busy performing diagnostics on ships' systems, but Taylor could tell that it was just makework. The ship didn't really need another Lieutenant. It was as if, once promoted to Lieutenant, the Service had no place to put him, so it stuck him here.

It was a discouraging thought.

The next night at dinner, Taylor found himself sandwiched between two women, Tara McCallister and Alexis Herman. Tara was an agro scientist on her way to the farming settlement on La Honda, by way of Ramada. She was a serious looking blonde woman in her 30's. Alexis was a school teacher on her way to take a teaching job in Ramada, which made absolutely no sense to him.

For one thing, Alexis was much too pretty to be an ordinary schoolteacher. She was a vibrant redhead, with very flirty eyes and a prominent bosom. And even Taylor knew that outsiders were not hired to teach on Ramada. The Ramadans were too afraid of cultural contamination. Taylor wondered what her real reason for going to Ramada was. Well, it was her own business.

"So, I hear you're a brand new Lieutenant," said Alexis. She smiled at him. "That must be very exciting. To be young, full of energy and eagerness, ready to explore the unknown."

The way she smiled slyly at Taylor made him wonder if she was talking about space exploration, or exploration of another kind. He reddened and suddenly remembered his girlfriend Jessica, back on Earth. She hadn't been thrilled when he had been posted to the Asgard. The ship's outer rim runs wouldn't allow him to get back to Earth very often. Taylor and Jessica hadn't exactly broken up, but the status of their relationship wasn't at all clear.

But Taylor, who still had feelings for Jessica, didn't consider himself single. And as he felt Alexis's foot cautiously probe his right leg, and she smiled as she saw he noticed it, he knew he couldn't deliver what she was looking for.

As he saw her sly grin and felt her caressing his leg, it seemed to him that her story that she was going to be a simple school teacher on Ramada seemed even more farfetched than ever.

On the other side of him, Tara McCallister, the serious looking agro scientist, said, "There must be a lot of responsibility, being an officer in the United Survey Service." Taylor thought he saw a level of interest in her eyes as well, but her look was different than Alexis's; less predatory. Less hungry.

"Yes, well, there's still a lot I have to learn," said Taylor, half thinking about his leg which was still being stroked.

"I'm sure you're a quick study, dear," said Alexis, smiling slyly at him.

Taylor excused himself early from dinner that night.

The voyage continued. Chief Baylis couldn't manage to complete repairs on the engines. Both housings covering the giant battery turbines in Engineering were open, as the generators were constantly being tinkered on. Baylis explained his problems to the Captain.

"I didn't get all the parts I asked for," said Baylis.

"Why didn't you check what you received before we left spacedock?" Captain Cargon asked.

"If you'll remember, sir, you ordered us to leave spacedock before-"

Cargon waved a hand dismissively "More excuses, Chief. All I need to know is, will the ship get us to Ramada, and back to the station?"

Baylis made a face. "Eventually, sir."

And that was the state of affairs on day five when they encountered the ribbon.

Stellar ribbons had been a known quantity for nearly a hundred years. They were hypercharged streams of gas and energy, highways of pure light, stretching in different directions throughout the cosmos. Starships were told to steer clear of them, because the energy within them was more than enough to cripple or destroy space faring vessels.

Lieutenant Davis, the navigator, alerted the Captain. "Sir, we are going to fly close to a Stellar Ribbon in Sector 42. Do you want me to alter course?"

"How close is close?" Cargon asked.

Davis checked. "At our closest point... 20,000 miles."

Cargon waved a hand dismissively.

"Sir?"

"Maintain course," said Cargon dismissively.

The Asgard approached the Stellar Ribbon. Soon it was close enough to be seen with the naked eye.

It was a rainbow of colors, shimmering with electrical discharges.

"It's beautiful," said Lieutenant Commander Boyega, the first officer.

"Yeah, pretty," said Davis. As they approached, however, the Ribbon started to shatter. Different tentacles of energy started to burst off from the main branch, shooting out in different directions.

"Sir," said Davis.

"I see it," Cargon snapped. "Evasive course!"

Davis started to plot a new course. But as he was working, a tentacle of the Ribbon lashed out, and hit the ship. Immediately, the ship twisted, shook, and accelerated rapidly, carried along by the Ribbon.

"We've been caught by it!" Davis shouted, wrestling with the controls.

"Red alert!" Cargon yelled, bouncing around in his command chair.

Lieutenant Taylor, who was off duty in his quarters, was thrown from his bed. He heard the klaxon and the call for all crewmembers to report to their duty stations. He hastily scrambled to the door to his quarters....

Back on the bridge, Davis was still struggling with the controls.

"Get out us off here," said Cargon, as the ship rocked and trembled mightily. More bridge crew, responding to the alert, filtered onto the bridge, off balance, as the ship jolted erratically.

"I can't, sir," said Davis. "Not enough power!"

Cargon pressed the comm button. "Chief, we need more power now-"

Suddenly, the ship was rocked by something that sent them tumbling from their seats.

"What was that?" Cargon asked, struggling to get up.

"The ship has been hit by a meteor," said Commander Boyega, checking the displays. "There's a field of meteors, trapped in the Ribbon behind us, and closing fast!"

"Shields at maximum!" said Cargon. He pressed the comm. "All hands, brace for-"

And then the Asgard was violently rocked by a series of tremendous impacts, and everything went black.

Emergency lighting slowly flickered on in the mess hall. The passengers were all sprawled in a large pile in one corner of the room. They slowly struggled to get up, straining to see anything in the dim lighting.

"What happened?" Naomi Weinberg asked, rubbing her head.

"It feels like we were hit by something," said Tara McCallister, the agro scientist.

"Something big," said Samuel Thomas, the older black man.

Tara looked out the window. "The Ribbon! We're out of it." It was now some distance away.

Miranda Sorenson, the security officer from the Marshal's service, went over to a comm and activated it. "Captain? Captain?" There was no response, only static. "Can anyone hear me?"

No one responded.

"Maybe the comms are down," said Tara.

"Let's try to get to the bridge," Liam Parnell, the prisoner, suggested.

"We will wait here," said Khalid, one of the Ramadans. "We should all pray to the Great God Laquinta for guidance."

"You do that," said Liam.

"I will pray with you as well," said Father Sanduval. "The Lord of the Unredeemed may hear our prayers."

The Ramadans, who weren't so tolerant of other religions, simply glared at him.

They decided to split up. Tara, Liam, and Pamela Bloomberg went to the bridge. The three friends, Brianna Lindsay, Kyrsten Hymen, and McKenzie Risella, went to Engineering.

The elevators were out. They had to use the ladders. When they got to the entrance to the bridge, however, the doors were close shut.

"Oh my god," said Tara. She looked up at a warning indicator above the door.

EXPLOSIVE DECOMPRESSION. AREA SEALED.

"The bridge must have been hit by a meteor," said Liam.

"So everyone on the bridge...?" Tara asked.

"Dead," said Liam grimly.

"Maybe some of them are still alive in engineering. Let's get down there," said Tara.

They made their way to engineering, where they found Brianna, Kyrsten, and McKenzie standing at the entrance. They couldn't get in.

There were electrical cables all over the places, and powers surges, bolts of energy crisscrossing the room. The crew were on the ground, unmoving. It looked like they had all been electrocuted.

"No. No, no, no," said Tara, taking a step back and hugging herself. "The bridge crew, the engineering crew! They can't be all dead!"

"Let's search the rest of the ship. Someone has to have survived," said Brianna.

They searched, deck by deck. Not all sections were accessible due to warped doors or collapsed bulkheads.

But they only found one person.

He looked like an enlisted crewman, coming down the dimly lit corridor. He wore a ship's uniform. Tara resisted the urge to hug him.

"What's happening?" "Is anyone else alive?" "How badly damaged is the ship?"

"I don't know," said the crewman. "I don't know anything."

"What do you mean, you don't know anything?" said Brianna.

"I wasn't on the bridge," said the crewman. "I work in the cargo department. My name is Adam Jefferson. I'm the apprentice crewman."

The apprentice crewman?

"Do you know how to pilot the ship?" Kyrsten asked.

"No."

"Do you know how to fix engineering?" Brianna asked.

Again he shook his head. "No."

"Then what fucking use are you?" Kyrsten raged.

"Calm down!" said Tara sharply. "Let's get back to the mess hall."

When they got back there, the first question they faced was, "Where's the crew?"

"All dead," said Liam. "All except this fellow, who is so new to the Survey Service that he barely knows how to put on a uniform."

"They're all dead? Not one was left alive?" said Kristiana Sanduval, Father Sanduval's daughter, in a very hushed tone.

"We have to get a distress signal out," said Alexis Herman, the school teacher.

"A great plan," said Tara. "Does anyone have any idea how to do it?"

There was silence in the room for a moment.

Then Brother Khalid says, "Let us pray."

"We are so fucked! We are so truly fucked up the ass," said Alexis bitterly.

"Calm down!" said Tara, trying to put an arm around her.

"You calm down!" said Alexis, pushing her away. "We're on a crippled ship, the entire crew is dead, and we have no idea how the ship can be fixed, if it can be fixed. We don't even know how to launch a distress signal. We don't even know if life support is working. We have no chance!"

"Stop it!" said Tara, grabbing her shoulders.

"No chance!" Alexis yelled again, getting hysterical.

Tara slapped her. Alexis slapped her back.

"We're fucked! We're all fucked!" Alexis screamed.

"QUIET!" a new voice said sternly.

They turned to see a new figure in the doorway. In the dim lighting, all they could see was the silhouette of an officer's uniform.

The man stepped forward. "No one's going to die," he said firmly.

When he stepped into the dim light, they saw the familiar face of United Survey Service Lieutenant Michael Taylor.

Taylor slowly pieced together what had happened, and told the others. "It seems we got caught up in a Stellar Ribbon, a passageway of highly charged energy and gases. There must have been some other matter, like meteors, trapped inside with it, and they impacted into the ship. The bridge got hit, and was depressurized by one of these impacts. By this time the impact had occurred, action stations had been called, and the entire bridge crew were on the bridge, as far as I can tell."

"But you're on the bridge crew, and you're still alive," said Tara.

"The first impact jammed the door to my quarters," said Taylor. "It took me some time to get the door open manually. By the time I did, the bridge had already gotten holed."

"Lucky you," said Alexis bitterly.

"What about engineering?" Miranda asked.

"There were problems in engineering long before we reached the Ribbon," said Taylor. "The Chief was working on the generators, and he had the housings open. When the ship was hit by the Ribbon, it must have supercharged the generators and sent out electrical currents all over engineering. The entire engineering staff was probably electrocuted instantly."

"But... you know how to fly the ship, right?" said Kyrsten, trying hard not to panic. "And you know how to fix the engines, right?"

"He's a new Lieutenant," said Brianna. "This is his first mission flying as a Lieutenant. I heard some of the crew talking about him."

"Yes," said Taylor. "Yes to all your questions. I am a brand new Lieutenant. But I do know how to fly the ship, and if it's repairable, I also know how to fix engineering... or at least I can figure it out." I think, he wanted to add.

Suddenly, the mood seemed to lighten. Tara looked at Taylor with new admiration. "All right. So what do we first, Lieutenant?"

Taylor immediately began to plan a course of action. "The bridge is no longer accessible. The first step is to shut down power so we can access engineering. But the only way to do that is from within engineering. I'll need a volunteer to help me."

"In that room, with flying electrical bolts? Are you serious?" said Kyrsten.

"Very seriously," said Taylor.

"I'll go," said Samuel Thomas.

They all looked at him.

"I'm just an old black man. I got nothin' to lose," Thomas snapped.

"You're one of the most foremost philosophers of our age!" Pamela Bloomberg protested.

Samuel made a dismissive noise. He looked at Taylor, with determination in his eyes. "Let's do this."

Engineering was still in chaos. There were random bolts of electricity flying around. For several minutes Taylor simply stood at the door.

"What are you waiting for?" Brianna asked.

"Quiet, girl!" Samuel snapped. "He's looking for a pattern."

Sure enough, a minute later, Taylor, having observed the irregular pattern, told Samuel how they were going to proceed. There were two panels, on opposite sides of the room, that each of them had to get to. Taylor guided Samuel, step by step, where to go, and when to stop and wait for an electrical discharge, as each slowly made their way across the room.

Samuel was almost at the console when Taylor said, "Samuel, wait, I think-"

"No, I got it," said Samuel. He waited for a bolt to appear, and then leapt forward to the console. Taylor did the same to reach his console a moment later. Samuel pressed the button that Taylor had instructed him to, and Taylor did the same at his console. A moment later, the electricity shut off.

The passengers, waiting in the safety of the corridor, clapped hysterically.

"We're saved!" said Kyrsten.

"Nothing of the sort," said Taylor sternly. "In fact, I've barely begun. I want you to all clear out of here, so I can start working. No, not you, Jefferson."

"Me, sir? But I know nothing about engines," said Crewman Jefferson.

"You're all the crew I've got," said Taylor grimly.

It was a full day before Taylor had gotten the housings sealed again and made enough emergency repairs so he could risk turning on the power. When he did so, there was a spark and a flash from one of the consoles, but the ship groaned and the regular lighting flickered on.

"I'm reading 30% power restored, sir. You did it," said Jefferson.

"That's all from generator one," said Taylor. "Generator two is totally destroyed."

"Is that enough to get us going?" Jefferson asked.

"Not with the FTL drive," said Taylor. "We could use ion drive, maybe, but that would take forever to get anywhere."

"Then can we launch a distress signal?"

Taylor shook his head. "Not from engineering. This ship is too small to have an auxiliary control. The only place we can do that from is the bridge."

"But the bridge is depressurized," said Jefferson.

"Precisely."

"What if something happens to you?" Tara McCallister said worriedly, as he suited up at the airlock.

"What could happen to me?" Taylor asked.

"A zillion things. Your suit could get punctured. Your air tanks could malfunction. You could drift away in space," Tara said. "And then we'd be all alone," she said, staring at him desperately.

"Don't worry, that's not going to happen," said Taylor, giving her a confident smile. "I'm a United Survey Service officer. I have full training in zero g maneuvers."

"Just be sure to come back," said Tara anxiously.

Taylor smiled and winked as he put on his helmet and stepped into the airlock.

As it depressurized, they watched him from the other side. "The boy seems to have more grit than the entire crew put together," said Samuel, who hadn't been at all impressed with Cargon and his other officers.

"I will pray for him," said Father Sanduval.

"You do that," said Samuel, who was an atheist.

They watched on the holomonitors in engineering as Taylor worked in the blackness of space. He was using a space welder on the outside of the ship.

"It doesn't look too bad," Taylor's crackly voice came over to them. "It's a deep hole, but it's narrow. I think I can get it patched up."

Tara eyed the slender line connecting Taylor to the ship. If that should snap... he would float away from the ship, and the passengers would be helpless, all on their own.

They watched anxiously as Taylor slowly sealed the breach. It seemed to take forever. Tara realized she was holding her breath much of the time. But then, finally, Taylor gave the thumbs up and said, "Complete! Returning now."

When he got inside and finished cycling through the airlock, Tara was the first to hug him. "You made it," she said.

Taylor smiled. "Was there ever any doubt?"

His cockiness turned her on.

Taylor, still in his spacesuit, made his way to the bridge alone. Just in case.

He waited a few minutes for the room to repressurize, then unsealed the doors and entered.

He checked the air gauge. There was a constant pressure.
​