Haney - Captain James Cook and the Explorers of the Pacific

He dreamt of demons.

Red faces on black bodies, swimming through a sea of the dead, pushing them aside like driftwood. They circled him. He, a child just learning to swim, just realizing that he didnt know how to swim, understood that he was going to be devoured in these deep waters.

Captain Drummond Bayne woke with a panic, sweat matting his black hair to his forehead. A bubbling in his gut warned him that he had approximately thirty seconds to crawl out of his bunk and reach the toilet before the contents of his stomach came roaring out with a vengeful fury.

He planted his foot, but in his haste and haze he fell flat on his belly, which did nothing for the volatile situation therein. He dragged himself across the floor like a snake, gripped the cold steel of the toilet bowl, and pulled himself up just in time.

A nights worth of rum came pouring out. Once he was empty, Bayne fell onto his back. He shook with a chill, but his face burned. Demons danced across his vision. They cursed in his ear, and then he fell asleep.

He woke again to an incoming call from sickbayDr. Simmons reminding him that he would need to report to the Central Command doctor if he was to be excused from duty another day. Her personal notes would cut it no longer. A potent strain of dekaflu, shed told them. One common to the Deep Black, but rare around the center of the system. Should it spread through Central Command, it could cripple the power structure of the United Systems for weeks.

A bit dramatic for Baynes tastes, but it did the trick. No one had dared to speak to him since they docked a week ago. He was free to sink into his bottles, which were routinely replenished by Wilco. He made a mental note to ask the boy where hed managed to acquire so many bottles of Bacconium rum in the most uptight place in the galaxy.

The thought of rum made his stomach churn. He lurked near the toiled a moment until he was sure his insides were content to remain on the inside. Once satisfied, he opened his closet to find his uniform cleaned and pressed, hanging like a trophy in a case. Or like a dead deer, gutted and stuffed and made to look like it was still alive, a twisted attempt to cling to something that died a long time ago. Something that never truly existed.

Mao had seen to cleaning it. He had picked it up off the floor himself after Bayne unceremoniously discarded it in a drunken fit. The executive officer had seen to many responsibilities in the last week, like insulating the crew of the Royal Blue from the captains downward spiral. They, too, believed him ill. Only Mao, Dr. Simmons, and the pirate boy knew the truth.

But that buffer was gone the moment Bayne stepped out of his cabin in uniform.

Sir, Lieutenant Delphyne said with a salute. Glad to see you up and about, sir.

Bayne returned a half-hearted salute. He played up the ghostly color in his cheeks, the red in his eyes, letting her assume them the reason for his lack of enthusiasm at spotting the tablet in her hands.

The XO sent me to update you, sir. I wasnt sure youd be ready for a briefing, hearing the state youve been in. Id just as soon preferred you rest until youre fully recovered and ready for duty. Her face flushed. Not that you dont look fully recovered, sir. Or ready for duty. I would never presume to She cleared her throat. Anyway, it seems the XO has a bit of a gift for precognition. He was sure youd be up.

Precognition. Or maybe it was the XO that pressured the good doctor to threaten him with a visit to the Central doctors.

Bayne gestured for the tablet. What briefing?

Delphyne handed it over, careful not to touch him and contract his rare and fictitious strain of flu. The ships due for inspection. Weve rescheduled with Central Engineering two times already. The Director of Engineering is becoming agitated.

Bayne bit back the curses that flooded his mind and instead said, Have Callet schedule a new inspection as soon as possible. The sooner its done, the sooner we can depart.

Yes, sir, Delphyne said, making a note on her own tablet, which cloned the display of Baynes.

They scrolled through several clerical items, simple tasks that merely needed his authorization. Mao could have handled them. He chose not to do them out of spite, Bayne concluded. Mao knew how little he cared for the administrative hoops he was made to jump through while docking at Central.

What is this? Bayne pointed to an item near the bottom of the list.

Delphyne deflated with a sigh, like she knew his resistance was coming. Admiral Ayala has ordered full debriefs and psychological evaluations of the crew.

Baynes temples pulsed with a fresh rush of hot blood. It made his head throb and his stomach churn. We arent due for full evals for another tour. Simple debriefs should be enough.

She was rather insistent, sir.

Bayne shoved the tablet into Delphynes hands. He marched past her, chewing a string of salty curses.

Sir, Delphyne called. Theyve already begun, the evals. About an hour ago.

Who have they spoke to?

Just two so far, Delphyne said. Theyre still with the admiral, actually.

Who? Bayne insisted.

The boys. Wilco and Hepzah.

* * *

The fumes of the docking bay made Bayne feel drunk again, which actually made his hangover manageable. The noise did nothing for his headache, though. It was a constant cacophony rumbling engines and shrieking equipment as they disassembled and reassembled machine parts, the steady roar of voices and tires and mechs as they thudded across the floor, hauling tools and supplies.

He had yet to step foot off the Royal Blue since docking. It had been a year since his last visit to Central. Visit made it sound pleasant. Remand was more accurate. The place felt like a prison, like it was made with the sole purpose of confining, crushing, and conforming. He made it a habit to keep his remands as short as possible, as dictated by protocol, of course. The standard docking of a deep space vessel after a tour was one month. Baynes friendly relationship with Admiral Ayala allowed him some flexibility with that, but that goodwill had since been spent.

Bayne caught his fair share of sidelong glances as he walked through the bustling docking bay. Hed had a reputation even before his last tour in the Deep Black. An assumption followed the Rangers that he was only now allowing himself to see. The assumption that they were vagabonds, ruffians, Navy captains only by the grace of Central Command when they should be drowning themselves in rum on some backwater planet praying some shipping jobs would pass their way. One step away from being pirates.

How could he not have noticed until now? How could he have saluted these people not knowing the venom they held in their mouths just waiting for the opportunity to spit it in his eyes? His face burned. Sweat beaded on his brow. Embarrassment or another surge of rum rushing out of his gut? It didnt matter. They felt the same.

He kept his eyes forward and focused on keeping his feet under him.

Central Command was a bustling place, one of the many reasons Bayne disliked it so much. It was a massive space station that housed the military command, intelligence, and administrative apparatus of the entire United Systems. Being such, it contained an eclectic mix of people. Bureaucrats, intelligence officers, career soldiers, mechanics, engineers, support staff. All a very different sort from each other. Which led to the need for the man who approached Bayne as he exited the docking bay into a connecting corridor.