Mutiny in Space Read Online Free PDF Page B

the captain, which is why he makes the big money. Such as it is. That’s why I buy Hawkins a bottle of brandy when we complete our runs. He deserves it. Besides, I doubt the captain will be with the
Rusalka
much longer. Sooner or later he’ll get rotated to another ship. Meanwhile, we’ll just do our jobs and let Hawkins handle the captain.”
    That was sensible advice.
    However, I soon discovered that neither Corbin nor Hawkins were actually following it. One day Corbin left a file open on his device while he was checking an airlock, and I saw that he, Hawkins, and Murdock had been recording a list of the captain’s various misdeeds and derelictions of duty, complete with date, time, and ample supporting documentation. Sooner or later, I realized, they were arranging to get Thomas Williams fired.
    I was fine with that. Especially after the incident on the bridge.
    It happened about three months after I joined the
Rusalka
. A bridge console had blown some fuses, and replacing them was a time-consuming and tedious job, but a simple and necessary one nonetheless, which made it a perfect job to fob off on a technician apprentice.
    I gathered up my toolbox and the replacement fuses and drove a little electric cart down the main dorsal corridor to the bridge. The
Rusalka
was a big ship, and all the vital areas were scattered around the gray metal cylinder of the cargo hold, for redundancy in case of asteroids or radiation or attack or space debris. Walking everywhere was much-needed exercise, but sometimes you needed to get places in a hurry, and that’s where the carts came in handy. Plus, that toolbox got heavy fast.
    The steel blast doors hissed open, and I stepped onto the bridge, which was mounted on the front of the ship’s dorsal ridge. It was a big oval-shaped room with consoles lining the walls, windows of transparent armor-alloy looking into space. That day, we were making our way through an empty system to the next hyperjump point, and a sullen red giant blazed off the ship’s port side like a big, cranky eye. Mr. Hawkins sat at the executive officer’s console, and a half-dozen other crewers sat at their stations.
    I hesitated a little when I saw Captain Williams in his chair, but he took no notice of me. He was, in fact, playing a card game on his device. That violated all kinds of rules, and I imagined Hawkins had already made a note of it in his file.
    “Rovio,” said Hawkins, turning in his seat. “The younger.”
    “Sir,” I said. “Corbin sent me for the cargo console.”
    “Yeah, you had better do it now,” said Hawkins, gesturing at a console in the corner of the bridge, its displays dark. “If we have to coordinate the drones from the cargo bay, it will double our unloading time.”
    “That long, sir?” I said.
    “Maybe even longer,” said Hawkins. “Trying to unload a ship with each drone doing its own thing takes forever. Time is money in this business.”
    “Yes,” said Williams. Both Hawkins and I glanced at him. The captain hadn’t looked up from his game. “Then stop jawing and get back to work, both of you.”
    I felt an overwhelming urge to ask him about his card game, but I managed to restrain myself.
    “Yes, sir,” said Hawkins. “Rovio, you heard the captain. Replace those fuses.”
    “Sir,” I said. I crossed to the console, pushed the seat out of the way, and got to work. For some reason, whether from stupidity or malevolence, or possibly both, on the part of the designers, the fuses in the console were located behind the backup power supply and the local hard drives. So to swap out the fuses, I had to disconnect the power supply, pull it out, unmount the drives, and put them aside. Then I would have to install the fuses, boot the whole thing up, and do an integrity check on the drives and the console’s processor.
    I had removed the power supply and was just starting on the first of the three hard drives when a boot clanked against the deck.
    I looked up to see