without a hint of sarcasm.
Norris Brovnik shook his head and turned away.
8
CAPTAIN CHRYSTA LOGAN
She was captain of the Burton again. It was a miracle, plain and simple.
The Ildiran Solar Navy had found the battered ship in the middle of open space and offered to take all the Burton colonists to a nearby planet. Strangest of all, these aliens knew how to speak Standard English.
Dario Ramirez had panicked upon seeing the swarm of spectacular alien ships surrounding them. He liked to talk though and complain to anyone who would listen; he riled up already-angry people and hadn’t thought much beyond that. He didn’t have the mettle to handle the constant flow of decisions a generation-ship captain had to make.
After little more than two days on the bridge attempting to deal with the thousand things that routinely went wrong—especially aboard the decrepit old Burton —he was overwhelmed. And that was just in a normal day’s work.
When the alien warliners arrived, Ramirez simply could not handle the emergency.
The Ildirans were confused and unsettled to learn about the mutiny, that the official captain was “unavailable.” To these aliens, questioning a commander was anathema.
A group of former mutineers had freed Chrysta Logan from the brig, having decided that she was the only one equipped to lead them through such a delicate time. Though the alien warliners frightened them, they understood that the Ildirans could be their salvation, and they didn’t want a short-sighted rabble rouser like Ramirez to screw things up.
Listening to the ugly, dissatisfied complaints, Ramirez had seen the way the wind was blowing, and graciously returned control to Captain Logan after the “brief misunderstanding,” on the condition that she grant amnesty to the mutineers and not press charges against him personally or seek any form or retaliation.
Sitting in the brig, Chrysta had been in no position to be picky. Given another few days, Ramirez would have ejected her from an airlock. She accepted the deal. It was a miracle, plain and simple.
They had rushed her to the Burton ’s bridge, where she tried to grasp the situation, which was unlike any crisis she had imagined. Chrysta bluffed her way through, refusing to let the unsettled crew see any crack in her confidence.
Seated in the command chair again, Chrysta chose her words carefully when she responded to the Ildiran warship commander. Too many questions. She volunteered little information about the Burton , but remained attuned to the alien reactions, waiting to respond until she learned more.
“You are the generation ship Burton , launched from Earth long ago,” said the alien commander. “We have been searching for you for five years. We offer our assistance.”
“We could very much use your help,” she said. “You found us just in time.”
Everyone on the bridge was jittery—partly from the Solar Navy ships, partly due to anxiety that their safety now depended on the very captain they had overthrown. She glared at them, but did not address the mutiny. They seemed meek, intimidated, afraid of what she would do.
But Chrysta had given her word—no retribution. Instead, she would lead them; she was brave and strong when facing the unexpected aliens. She didn’t know how the Ildirans knew so much about the generation ships, but they seemed friendly, sincere. They even looked mostly human.
“And what is it that you want from us?” Chrysta leaned forward, staring at the image of the alien commander.
“To help you. We have rescued the other ten generation ships and also visited your Earth. We had nearly given up hope of finding you.”
The Burton was in such bad shape that she would accept their assistance regardless of whether she understood their reasons. The colonists didn’t have much to lose, and now Chrysta owed the Ildirans her life.
Because the generation ship had been so severely damaged in the recent ion storm, even the Ildiran warliners
Norris Brovnik shook his head and turned away.
8
CAPTAIN CHRYSTA LOGAN
She was captain of the Burton again. It was a miracle, plain and simple.
The Ildiran Solar Navy had found the battered ship in the middle of open space and offered to take all the Burton colonists to a nearby planet. Strangest of all, these aliens knew how to speak Standard English.
Dario Ramirez had panicked upon seeing the swarm of spectacular alien ships surrounding them. He liked to talk though and complain to anyone who would listen; he riled up already-angry people and hadn’t thought much beyond that. He didn’t have the mettle to handle the constant flow of decisions a generation-ship captain had to make.
After little more than two days on the bridge attempting to deal with the thousand things that routinely went wrong—especially aboard the decrepit old Burton —he was overwhelmed. And that was just in a normal day’s work.
When the alien warliners arrived, Ramirez simply could not handle the emergency.
The Ildirans were confused and unsettled to learn about the mutiny, that the official captain was “unavailable.” To these aliens, questioning a commander was anathema.
A group of former mutineers had freed Chrysta Logan from the brig, having decided that she was the only one equipped to lead them through such a delicate time. Though the alien warliners frightened them, they understood that the Ildirans could be their salvation, and they didn’t want a short-sighted rabble rouser like Ramirez to screw things up.
Listening to the ugly, dissatisfied complaints, Ramirez had seen the way the wind was blowing, and graciously returned control to Captain Logan after the “brief misunderstanding,” on the condition that she grant amnesty to the mutineers and not press charges against him personally or seek any form or retaliation.
Sitting in the brig, Chrysta had been in no position to be picky. Given another few days, Ramirez would have ejected her from an airlock. She accepted the deal. It was a miracle, plain and simple.
They had rushed her to the Burton ’s bridge, where she tried to grasp the situation, which was unlike any crisis she had imagined. Chrysta bluffed her way through, refusing to let the unsettled crew see any crack in her confidence.
Seated in the command chair again, Chrysta chose her words carefully when she responded to the Ildiran warship commander. Too many questions. She volunteered little information about the Burton , but remained attuned to the alien reactions, waiting to respond until she learned more.
“You are the generation ship Burton , launched from Earth long ago,” said the alien commander. “We have been searching for you for five years. We offer our assistance.”
“We could very much use your help,” she said. “You found us just in time.”
Everyone on the bridge was jittery—partly from the Solar Navy ships, partly due to anxiety that their safety now depended on the very captain they had overthrown. She glared at them, but did not address the mutiny. They seemed meek, intimidated, afraid of what she would do.
But Chrysta had given her word—no retribution. Instead, she would lead them; she was brave and strong when facing the unexpected aliens. She didn’t know how the Ildirans knew so much about the generation ships, but they seemed friendly, sincere. They even looked mostly human.
“And what is it that you want from us?” Chrysta leaned forward, staring at the image of the alien commander.
“To help you. We have rescued the other ten generation ships and also visited your Earth. We had nearly given up hope of finding you.”
The Burton was in such bad shape that she would accept their assistance regardless of whether she understood their reasons. The colonists didn’t have much to lose, and now Chrysta owed the Ildirans her life.
Because the generation ship had been so severely damaged in the recent ion storm, even the Ildiran warliners
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