The com console was awash in blood. Maricela swallowed the frightened scream that threatened to erupt from her throat. Her EVA helmet slipped from her stuttering grasp and rolled across the command deck. Its final thump made her flinch again.
“Mom? Dad? Aunt Hetty? Uncle Constantine?”
The only sounds came from various systems rebooting. From what she could tell in her hiding place, the ship took a serious EMP burst. But Forthright was a tough old girl. A little bit of frying couldn’t keep her down for long.
“Forthright. Crew location,” Maricela queried the ship computer.
“Please confirm identity.”
The easiest way to do that was a retinal scan at the com console. She made herself look at the mess there while her mind spun through alternatives. The captain’s chair. Unbroachable territory. She leaned in long enough to do the scan and unlock the computer, then repeated her query.
“Unknown.”
The environmentals flickered as the ship finished its reboot. She eyed the blood on the floor by the coms station and shuddered. Time to get to work. Maricela snatched up her helmet and headed to the galley.
Every locker was open; all the contents were scattered on the floor. But the compartment was as empty of crew as the command deck. Emptier, even. There was no blood here.
Whose blood was it? So much blood. Could someone survive after losing that much blood? The scream was threatening to break out of her throat again. She sealed the hatch to the galley and continued on to the crew cabins.
In the crew cabins, it was more of the same. Every locker opened, and all the contents spilled. Her clothes, books, and other belongings were strewn across her cabin. What had the pirates been looking for? Forthright had already delivered her most recent batch of cargo. They had nothing to steal.
Bigger ships had an engine room. Forthright, tiny little freighter that it was, had an engine compartment. Maricela chanted the emergency instructions that Aunt Hetty and her parents had drilled into her from the time she was old enough to talk in complete sentences.
Stabilize the environmentals. The ship was handling that on her own.
Treat the wounded. Maricela’s shoulders hunched up and she gripped her helmet a little tighter. Where was everybody?
Repair what you can. Forthright had a bit of luck there. Random spare bits off an aging ship weren’t on the pirates’ pillaging list. After forcing manual reboots of the systems that were struggling to reload, her next task would be cleaning the blood off the coms station.
Find help. Where was she, even? She clumped back up to the command deck and set her helmet in Hetty’s chair. No way was she sitting in forbidden territory, even if she was alone.
While the computer finished its systems checks, Maricela stripped out of the EVA suit. It felt like her mother had forced her into it a lifetime ago. The ship’s time said two hours. Forthright was hailed by a mid-sized ship claiming to be a freighter in distress. As usual, Maricela’s main duty was to stay out of the way.
Aunt Hetty didn’t trust the situation, but couldn’t ignore a distress call. All the adults were on edge. As per their usual routine, Maricela was banished to the super-secret cubby under the cargo hold. There was room for her and not much else. She thought she would be spending a very boring half hour in the dark.
And then things turned upside down. Forthright was buffeted and thumped. There was the unmistakable sound of a temporary airlock latching on. More sounds, the sound of many feet. Noise over her cubby as the pirates crawled through the hold.
Then silence. When the silence stretched on too long, she crawled out even though no one called an all-clear. Better to face the same fate as the others than to be adrift on her own.
Adrift on her own. Situation critical. Her heart stuttered for a beat or two.
She had been sulking even before she went into the cubby. There were kittens for sale at Wexford station. Her dad said no, though Aunt Hetty said maybe. He asked what would they do in an emergency. Pet carriers with onboard environmentals were expensive. The cost was well beyond the little pile of credits she had saved for the kitten.
The kitten could have come into the cubby with her. Then she wouldn’t be alone right now. Or the kitten might have been taken by the pirates, along with everyone else. Did the pirates take her family? Or did they space everyone? Her heart stuttered again.
“Forthright, play back the command deck record.”
“Specify time frame.”
Maricela checked the ship’s clock and did some quick math to bring up the correct slice of video. A bit of forwarding got her to the point where six rugged-looking men rushed the command deck. Uncle Constantine spun his seat, shouting something into the general mayhem.
One of the pirates closed on him. Aunt Hetty leapt from the captain’s chair and got an elbow to her nose. She went down hard onto the deck while the pirate drove a huge knife into Uncle Constantine’s chest.
Maricela had to pause the playback and wipe her eyes. When playback resumed, another pirate dragged her mother onto the bridge, a knife at her throat. Maricela paused the playback again, but there was no point in waiting.
Either she was a sixteen-year-old orphan adrift on her own, or she wasn’t. She couldn’t decide what to do next without knowing what happened. She stuffed the cuff of her ship suit into her mouth to stifle her sobs and told the computer to resume playback.
The pirates cuffed everyone, even Uncle Constantine as he lay bleeding on the coms console. The interior hatch cam showed everyone prodded or dragged off. There was no outside view from the ship’s exterior cams of the temporary docking tube. No doubt the pirates killed the camera.
Maricela screamed several words that her mother didn’t approve of. When that didn’t help either her frustration or her thought processes, she went down to the galley and fetched the supplies to clean up Uncle Constantine’s station.
Wiping up Uncle Con’s drying blood was the worst thing she’d ever had to do. With the mess mostly conquered, she flopped into the pilot seat. Her dad’s Saint Christopher medal was still stuck to the piloting console. She rubbed its worn surface for good luck, like her dad did before every trip.
“Forthright, how far have we traveled since the temporary docking tube was disconnected?”
“Ship has been stationary since crew disembarkation. Estimated drift less than one-half kilometer.”
“Forthright, area scan for biological debris.”
“Specify area parameter.”
“Start at a half-kilometer sphere and increase by half-kilometer increments until I tell you to stop or you reach sensor limits.” Was that good enough math? Maricela wasn’t sure, but it would have to do. She also wasn’t sure she was up to the task of fetching frozen bodies into the cargo hold, should Forthright find them.
Eighteen hours later, Forthright had reached the limits of her sensors without finding any biological debris. Maricela finished cleaning the coms console, a task slowed by bouts of crying. Then she tidied the entire ship in a burst of need to do something, anything, to make things right again. Forthright couldn’t sit still forever, though. What if the pirates decided that old ship parts were a good idea after all?
“Forthright, what is the closest friendly station or settlement?”
The moments dragged on too long, and she wondered if she had asked the question wrong. Usually, her conversations with Forthright were about her schoolwork. Did Forthright know what “friendly” meant? She had to. That was the way Aunt Hetty always phrased it. Forthright, list the five most friendly stops on our current course plan. The memory stung Maricela’s eyes again.
“Closest friendly stop is UPA Sigma station.”
Under her idle fingers, the piloting console sprang forth with a list of possible route solutions. Her father’s advice rang in her memory. When in trouble, always pick the route that uses the least resources. Food, fuel, atmo. The purification systems were working fine after the reboot. She wouldn’t have to worry about water or air.
Getting to Sigma wouldn’t be a problem. It was an easy course that could be run on automation. Docking with Sigma, well. She’d deal with that when she got there. She chose the route that promised the least fuel consumption and let Forthright handle the rest.
Two-thirds of the way to Sigma station, another ship hailed her. It was nothing more than a passing friendly ping. UPA-SO Abarca was gliding by on its way to whatever it was that special operations ships did. Maricela scrambled for the coms station and sent the distress signal. She hoped with all her might that Abarca really was friendly. With luck, there would be adults in charge of the situation again soon.
“Freetrader Forthright, what is your emergency?” Forthright’s command deck broadcast a young male voice, so crisp she could almost hear the salute.
“Help. Oh, please, help. There were pirates and I don’t know how to dock with Sigma. I don’t know how to pilot at all.”
“Freetrader Forthright, this is Lieutenant Lopez of UPA-SO Abarca. Do you currently have hostiles aboard?”
“No! I’m alone. I can’t do this alone. I need help!”
“Ma’am. This is Lt. Commander Clovis, second in command of Abarca. Could you explain your situation once more?” This new voice was female and sounded older, like maybe her mom’s age. “Take a couple of deep breaths, and then we’ll start at the top, shall we?”
Maricela nodded and gulped in some air.
“Ma’am? Are you still there?”
“Sorry, yes.”
“You said you don’t currently have hostiles on board?”
“No ma’am.”
“Are you being pursued?”
“I don’t think so?” Maricela moved from coms to poke at navigation again.
“And you say you need help docking with Sigma station? Is your ship damaged? Are you injured?”
“No. I mean yes. I mean, Forthright and I are fine, but I’m not a pilot.”
“Didn’t you cross-train on at least basic navigation?” Clovis’s voice held a hint of skepticism and impatience.
“I’m sixteen, ma’am. I’m not old enough yet to sit for starship navigation certification.”
Continue reading Part Two: https://www.tlryder.com/2025/05/02/maricella-to-the-rescue-pt-2-sf/
The Abarca appears briefly in Novaflight. If you like fast-paced SF adventure with a goofy, tight-knit crew, get Novaflight on Amazon or here: https://www.tlryder.com/store/Novaflight-p519760613
