“Do we know what’s going on?” He headed for the gravlift giving access to the bridge and the captain’s wardroom.
“Not my place to tell you but nothing bad.” Maeve closed the link with a click.
Trevor entered his code on the keypad and the door to the gravlift opened, since he was authorized to access the bridge today. Riding up the silvery stream took only a few seconds and he stepped onto the bridge. The normal contingent of crew and officers were at their stations. Third Officer Steve Aureli had the con, which made sense as the ship was getting ready to go into orbit around their destination.
A yeoman was waiting for him. “Captain Fleming wants to see you in the wardroom. This way.”
Trevor followed the other through the short corridor and was left outside the conference room to key the arrival button and receive permission to enter. Stepping across the threshold, he saluted. “Lt. Trevor Hanson reporting as ordered, sir.”
The captain was seated at the head of the table, drinking real Terran coffee from the battered mug which bore the crest of his last battleship command. “At ease, Hanson. Get yourself some coffee and come sit down. I have a special assignment for you on this leg of the cruise.”
He wasn’t thirsty but no one refused the captain’s invitation and especially not when the beverage on offer was the rare and costly real coffee. Trevor picked up a Nebula Zephyr mug, filled it, spurned the sugar and cinna spice, preferring to drink it black, and joined the captain. His curiosity coiled in his gut. Highly unusual for Fleming himself to skip protocol and give orders directly to any crew member. He was a firm believer in the chain of command and military protocol, even now, commanding a cruise ship.
The captain was staring at the big vid screens which showed the planetary system the ship was fast approaching, a series of reddish tinted jewels scattered across the black velvet of the galaxy, circling the yellow sun in the eternal rhythm decreed by astrophysics and the laws of the universe.
Trevor sipped the strong coffee and waited.
“What do you know about the wreck of the Nebula Dream?” Fleming asked, still watching the planets.
Pop quiz time I guess. “Worst passenger ship disaster in the history of the Sectors, thousands of lives lost, heroics by a Special Forces officer who happened to be aboard and saved hundreds. We had a module on it when I was in training, sir, mostly regarding the decisions made by the soldier. One of those ‘what would you do in his place’ type classes.”
“Nick Jameson,” Fleming said, supplying the name of the officer under discussion. “His decisions in what regard?”
“At each point, I guess. To stay on the ship, to use what is politely called classified means to contact rescue ships, and to fight the enemy when they boarded.” Remembering more details as he talked, Trevor added, “Guy was gutsy, smart and lucky. Oh and the cruise liner was way off course, in enemy territory. May I ask why the interest, sir?”
“We’re a sister ship, did you know that? Not the exact design but close, and of course we have different engines. No one uses the Yeatter unstable technology nowadays, not if the shipbuilders are sane.” Fleming sat upright. “What do you know about the survivors? The ones specifically who were with Jameson?”
Suspecting the discussion was getting closer to whatever point Fleming was driving at, Trevor shook his head. “Two women, a D’nvannae Brother, couple of kids…oh and a Mellurean Mind but I believe she died on board.”
“The main reason we’re in this system is to pick up a woman named Gianna Nadenoft,” Fleming said. “She was a very little girl when Nick Jameson saved her life on the Nebula Dream and she hasn’t flown in space since her father brought her home after the rescue.”
Trevor absorbed the information and asked the obvious question. “May I ask why she’s traveling now then, sir?”
“Her brother is getting married on Xcelon Four and she’s agreed to attend and be a bridesmaid.”
Obviously the lady would be a celebrity passenger. The Sectors’ fascination with the tragedy of the Nebula Dream never went away. But what was his role in this? Maybe the Cruise Director should be here, not him. Trevor abhorred being unclear on mission parameters and right now he didn’t see his role in this discussion or the woman’s travel plans.
The captain stared at him over the lip of his mug. “Ms. Nadenoft apparently has PTSD resulting from the events on board the Nebula Dream and this trip is going to be a huge challenge for her. She does have a service animal.”
Now Trevor had a sinking feeling and the captain’s next words confirmed his suspicion. “I want you to be her fulltime escort while she’s with us. The assignment begins when you go to the planet and meet her and ends with your attendance at the wedding. If she chooses to fly home with us, then I’d extend the duty but I’ve been told she may stay with her brother and his new wife.”
“Are we expecting threats to her life, sir?” Trevor knew there were conspiracy theories about the famed wreck, as well as fanatical researchers and avid fan hobbyists. If Gianna truly hadn’t been off her home world in the twenty or so years since the wreck, there must be quite a pent-up demand for her story. Of all the people who’d been with Nick Jameson on board the drifting vessel and the events taking place there, only Twilka Zabour, the interstellar celebrity and influencer, had been willing to do interviews and speak out. True, Nick and his wife Mara had granted one interview shortly after being rescued, which Trevor had seen in the class he’d mentioned earlier, but it was a pretty straight forward account, lacking any of the juicy details the popular media craved. Jameson might as well have been briefing the military review board for all the drama he didn’t inject into the proceedings.
Well, okay, Trevor admitted to himself he was like everyone else, capable of being fascinated by the tragedy.
“Doubtful. She was just a child at the time of the wreck. We’re trying to keep her presence here with us a secret but you know how these things go. Newshounds and fanatics will find out. My understanding is she’s likely to suffer a PTSD incident or two while on board and I want an escort with her who knows what to do.”
And I have a lot of personal experience. Trevor drained the coffee, which had become tasteless to him. “Surely the doctor—”
Fleming cut him off. “Can’t be with her all the time.”
Trevor tried again. “Cryo sleep?”
“Ms. Nadenoft ruled out the cryo option. Many of those in the cryo unit of the Nebula Dream perished or became ill and Jameson saved the rest but she was left with a phobia about ever submitting herself to cryo.”
Sitting back, he tried a different approach. “Sir, may I ask why you’re so personally invested in this?”
“Fair enough question, lieutenant.” Fleming smiled. “I have some old friends, mutual friends with Jameson, who specifically requested me to make extra accommodations for Gianna.”
The Mellureans. He means the Mellureans. A chill ran up Trevor’s spine at the thought of the mysterious, ancient race. The Sectors was desperate to keep the all-powerful Mellureans as allies and any request the reclusive aliens made was granted without question. There’d been a small chance of asking them to help with his rehabilitation after he was rescued from the prison camp, but of course the aliens held themselves aloof from the rest of the galaxy and received thousands of requests all the time, so he’d never allowed his hopes to get very high. He’d done his best to handle his own issues.