Redshirts

“There goes the trade secret,” Cassaway said.

“What’s in there?” Dahl asked, motioning to the door.

“It’s a storage room,” Cassaway said.

“You were hiding in the storage room?” Dahl said.

“We weren’t hiding,” said the other crew member. “We were doing inventory.”

“Andy Dahl, this is Fiona Mbeke,” Cassaway said.

“Hello,” Dahl said.

“You should be glad that we were doing inventory,” Mbeke said. “Because now that means that it won’t be assigned to you as the new guy.”

“Well, then, thanks,” Dahl said.

“We’ll still make you get coffee,” Mbeke said.

“I would expect nothing less,” Dahl said.

“And look, here is the rest of us,” Cassaway said, and nodded as two new people came through the hallway door.

One of them immediately approached Dahl. He saw the lieutenant’s pip on her shoulder and saluted.

“Relax,” Collins said, and nevertheless returned the salute. “The only time we salute around here is when His Majesty comes through the door.”

“You mean Commander Q’eeng,” Dahl said.

“You see the pun there,” Collins said. “With ‘king,’ which is what his name sounds like.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dahl said.

“That’s a little nerd humor for you,” Collins said.

“I got it, ma’am,” Dahl said, smiling.

“Good,” Collins said. “Because the last thing we need is another humorless prick around here. You met Cassaway and Mbeke, I see.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dahl said.

“You’ve figured out that I’m your boss,” she said, then motioned to the other crew member. “And this is Ben Trin, who is second in command of the lab.” Trin came forward to shake Dahl’s hand. Dahl shook it. “And that’s all of us.”

“Except for Jenkins,” Mbeke said.

“Well, he won’t see Jenkins,” Collins said.

“He might,” Mbeke said.

“When was the last time you saw Jenkins?” Trin said to Mbeke.

“I thought I saw him once, but it turned out to be a yeti,” Cassaway said.

“Enough about Jenkins,” Collins said.

“Who’s Jenkins?” Dahl asked.

“He’s doing an independent project,” Collins said. “Very intensive. Forget it, you’ll never see him. Now…” She reached over to one of the tables in the lab, grabbed a tablet and fired it up. “You come to us with some very nice scores from the Academy, Mr. Dahl.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Dahl said.

“Is Flaviu Antonescu still heading up the Xenobiology Department?” Collins asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” Dahl said.

“Please stop appending ‘ma’am’ to every sentence, Dahl, it sounds like you have a vocal tic.”

Dahl smiled again. “All right,” he said.

Collins nodded and looked back at the tablet. “I’m surprised Flaviu recommended you for the Intrepid.”

“He refused at first,” Dahl said, remembering the discussion with his Academy department head. “He wanted me to take a post at a research facility on Europa.”

“Why didn’t you take it?” Collins asked.

“I wanted to see the universe, not be down a sixty-kilometer ice tunnel, looking at Europan microbes.”

“You have something against Europan microbes?” Collins asked.

“I’m sure they’re very nice as microbes go,” Dahl said. “They deserve someone who really wants to study them.”

“You must have been pretty insistent to get Flaviu to change his mind,” Collins said.

“My scores were high enough to get Commander Q’eeng’s attention,” Dahl said. “And as luck would have it, a position opened up here.”

“It wasn’t luck,” Mbeke said.

“It was a Longranian Ice Shark,” Cassaway said.

“Which is the opposite of luck,” Mbeke said.

“A what?” Dahl asked.

“The crew member you’re replacing was Sid Black,” Trin said. “He was part of an away team to Longran Seven, which is an ice planet. While exploring an abandoned ice city, the away team was attacked by ice sharks. They carried Sid off. He wasn’t seen again.”

“His leg was,” Mbeke said. “The lower half, anyway.”

“Quiet, Fiona,” Collins said, irritated. She set down the tablet and looked back at Dahl. “You met Commander Q’eeng,” she said.

“I did,” Dahl said.

“Did he talk to you about away missions?” Collins asked.

“Yes,” Dahl said. “He asked me if I was interested in them.”

“What did you say?” Collins asked.

“I said I usually did lab work but I assumed I would participate on away missions as well,” Dahl said. “Why?”

“He’s on Q’eeng’s radar now,” Trin said to Collins.

Dahl looked at Trin and back at Collins. “Is there something I’m missing here, ma’am?” he asked.

“No,” Collins said, and glanced over at Trin. “I just prefer to have the option to indoctrinate my crew before Q’eeng gets his hands on them. That’s all.”

“Is there some philosophical disagreement there?” Dahl asked.

“It’s not important,” Collins said. “Don’t worry yourself about it. Now,” she said. “First things first.” She pointed over to the corner. “You get that workstation. Ben will issue you a work tablet and give you your orientation, and Jake and Fiona will catch you up on anything else you want to know. All you have to do is ask. Also, as the new guy you’re on coffee duty.”

“I was already told about that,” Dahl said.

“Good,” Collins said. “Because I could use a cup right about now. Ben, get him set up.”

* * *

“So, did you guys get asked about away teams?” Duvall asked, as she brought her mess tray to the table where Dahl and Hanson were already sitting.

“I did,” Hanson said.

“So did I,” Dahl said.

“Is it just me, or does everyone on this ship seem a little weird about them?” Duvall asked.

“Give me an example,” Dahl said.

“I mean that within five minutes of getting to my new post I heard three different stories of crew buying the farm on an away mission. Death by falling rock. Death by toxic atmosphere. Death by pulse gun vaporization.”

“Death by shuttle door malfunction,” Hanson said.

“Death by ice shark,” Dahl said.

“Death by what?” Duvall said, blinking. “What the hell is an ice shark?”

“You got me,” Dahl said. “I had no idea there was such a thing.”

“Is it a shark made of ice?” Hanson asked. “Or a shark that lives in ice?”

“It wasn’t specified at the time,” Dahl said, spearing a meat bit on his tray.

“I’m thinking you should have called bullshit on the ice shark story,” Duvall said.