Free Magic Dirt: The Best of Sean Williams by Sean Williams Page B

obviously bored with the routine manoeuvres and uninspiring dialogue. Steel-haired Andre looked unhappy, which I duly noted. The script called for sullen resentment over Myrion’s rejection, but I sensed something more. Was he, like Freedom, overacting, or could this be the beginning of a separate malaise?
     
    I sat apart from everyone, studying the crew’s interactions for any sign of tension, or release thereof. Who knew what would be useful? Even the isolation of Sara and Andre might provide enough material for a sub-plot, although I resisted the idea of pairing the two romantically. Apart from my own feelings, her fragile, almost childlike beauty would look incestuous juxtaposed with the stern security head. Although, maybe she’d like that. I found it hard to tell what was happening inside that pretty head, with its close-cropped auburn hair and burnt-orange eyes ...
     
    ‘Ahead of schedule,’ commented Andre, ‘won’t be soon enough for me.’
     
    I came back to reality with a jolt. So that was his problem. Earth-sickness. I’d need to look at that later.
     
    ‘Engines are fine, Captain,’ said Steve. He licked his lips, acutely aware that every word was being recorded. ‘It was a little rough for a moment there, but we rode through it. Give us four days to trace the problem and we’ll be back at optimum.’
     
    ‘Good.’ Gabe nodded, unconcerned. Maintenance on such a long mission was an ongoing problem but nothing to be overly worried about. There was little save a direct asteroid-strike or a matrix-implosion that Steve couldn’t fix on the hop. The engines only ran at full power once every five weeks, anyway, while we crossed the gulf between stars, so there was plenty of downtime to patch up the odd leak. ‘Jake, tell me about the system.’
     
    The half-Asian astrogator shrugged without looking up from his screen. He was type-cast and he knew it; more, he played up to it. ‘Nothing new to report, sir. Three planets, two of them Jovian. The third is tiny and dense, in a close, irregular orbit. Probably a captured moon. No asteroid belts or cometary clouds to speak of.’
     
    ‘Good.’ Gabe visibly relaxed. The last binary system (Omega Herculis, a white Supergiant with smaller companion) had seemed as simple as this, at first, until closer inspection revealed a widely scattered belt of primordial black holes orbiting the primary sun. Tricky for astrogation and life-support, and, as a near miss had proved, potentially fatal. We were ready for anything, this time, including boredom. ‘Uninhabited?’
     
    ‘Of course. What did you expect?’
     
    ‘One of these days you might surprise me.’ Gabe smiled wryly. ‘Sara, all non-essential crew can take a one-hour break. On stand-by until further notice.’
     
    Sara toggled the intercom and broadcast the order. A feeling of tension began to ebb as, throughout the ship, the superfluous crew left their posts for a breather. Eighteen hours of hard work - crossover, primary survey, injection - was finished. Earlier than normal, too, as Freedom had said; Gabe’s technique of combining insertion with flyby seemed to be working. Unless something went wrong, the ship would be back on regular rosters for the next few weeks.
     
    Gabe flickered through various screens of information, browsing, filling in time until the flyby. I too watched the torrent of data, understanding no more than ten per cent but not feeling too bad about that. None of us understood it all, not even the backroom boys under Freedom’s command. In the eighteen months we had already been Out Here, we had collected as many anomalies as coherent facts, and more questions than answers.
     
    As Morale Officer, it was my job to make sure the wrong questions were never asked.
     
    The inner, rocky planet crept closer. A battery of instruments scattered across the hull of the ship subjected it to constant analysis. It was lifeless, as expected, and a potential wealth of minerals.