Contaminant Six by Joseph R. Lallo

Author:Joseph R. Lallo [Lallo, Joseph R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Joseph R. Lallo
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

Coop leaned heavily on the wheel of the garbage scow. The deckhand’s expression seldom changed. On the average day it resided somewhere between dim contentment and idle boredom, with brief spikes into manic glee when the more energetic aspects of his job came to bear. Today, his expression was complex. A mix of impatience, anxiety, and frustration twisting him into something almost unrecognizable to Gunner as he climbed to the main deck to relieve him.

“That’s your shift,” he said.

“I’m stayin’ on the helm,” Coop said.

“You’ve been up here for twelve hours. Take your relief and eat something.”

“Ain’t nothin’ down there but fugger food. Ain’t worth eatin’. I’m stayin’ on the helm.”

“I outrank you, you know.”

“So you gonna order me?”

“I already did. Twice. A third comes with a reprimand.”

“You ain’t never reprim… you ain’t never punished no one. That’s the cap’n’s job.”

“The captain isn’t here, and you’ve never disobeyed a direct order. Not on purpose, anyway. Now sit your narrow behind down and get some sleep.”

Coop reluctantly relinquished the helm. He trudged below decks. Gunner checked the gauges and made a slight adjustment. A few seconds later, Coop returned with a can. He pulled the knife from his belt and deftly opened it.

“I said head below decks to—” Gunner began.

“You said I oughta take my relief, and you don’t get no say in where I take it,” Coop snapped.

He flopped down on a crate, leaned against one of the envelope supports, and twisted the cap for his vial of ichor. The fug was pushed back, and he was hidden in the thick cloud of toxin surrounding the clean air the ichor provided.

“What sense is there in wearing yourself out, Coop? You being on deck isn’t going to make this ship move any faster.”

“Ain’t nothin’ that’ll get this ship movin’ any faster. In all my life, I ain’t been on a ship this slow. That time we had to limp back to Keystone on one turbine wasn’t as slow as this.”

“It’s a hauler. It’s not meant to be fast.”

“I don’t care what it ain’t supposed to do. We’d’ve been better off figurin’ out how to get the goop we stole back to that two-seater.”

“If you recall, it was the distraction that allowed us to get the ‘goop’ to begin with.”

“Didn’t do a whole lot of good. We still had to chuck some of that nasty stuff you rigged up and blow holes in a couple ships to get this far.”

“What’s done is done. We’ll be in Ichor Well in another two days.”

“I don’t care if—hang on. Nikita’s got somethin’.”

Gunner turned to see the little aye-aye with the notched tail scamper from within the thick haze around Coop and scramble up the rigging to the envelope. Her enormous eyes were wide, and her ears were twitching and angling to a point in the horizon. Gunner turned his head and cupped his ear in the same direction. He could just barely hear the whine of distant turbines. A passing ship, and thus, a chance for a message.

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