The Black Hawk, Standard Year 403 after founding

  “Good morning!” Clara’s cheerful voice called out as the bright beam of a flashlight lit up the interior of Alanna’s cell.

  Alanna blinked against the bright light, startling after hours of darkness. “Good morning, Clara.” She responded politely.

  “Heck of a power outage we had last night.” Clara’s bemused face was illuminated by the flashlight. “We’ve got some work to do getting this placed fixed up. I’ll get us coffee first.” She pushed open the unlocked cell door with no apparent surprise and set down the broad beam flashlight, leaving enough illumination to see the cell, and bustled off.

  “Here you go.” Clara returned a few minutes later and handed Alanna a cup filled with coffee. She sat on the other side of the bed, in the same place James had occupied last night, and took a long drink of her own coffee. “Saw the video.”

  “Ah.” Alanna nodded. It was all becoming clearer now.

  “You didn’t look thrilled, if I’m honest.”

  “How did I look?”

  Clara looked at the open cell door thoughtfully. “Like you had a job to do and you were going to do it.” She said finally. “I’m glad you did it. Many of us are.”

  Alanna sighed. “Is it important?”

  “Well.” Clara considered. “You’re a bit of a mascot, now. Two wildly successful missions with not a single crew member dying. James” She cleared her throat “that is, Captain Hawk will be up for a promotion again soon. The expectations keep getting higher. And fixing the mess you’ve handed us, that’s a part of it.”

  “It’s not a reasonable expectation.”

  “No.” Clara agreed. “It’s not. But then, he is James Hawk. The expectations have never been reasonable.”

  “Why does everyone expect so much?” Alanna asked.

  Clara smiled into her cup. “Maybe you’ll find out someday. He left your computer, with new reading material. You are to start reading it today.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Alanna responded, in the spirit of good faith cooperation.

  “Good. Now help me change out these lights. We’ll need to replace the lot.”

  An hour later, Alanna handed Clara the screwdriver for the eighth time. An EMP over a ten foot radius took out a lot of electronics. They were nearing the end of the repairs. Clara stood on top of a box, balanced somewhat precariously as she changed out one of the dead overhead lights. Alanna eyed the screwdriver in her hand glumly. Clara was a tall, large framed woman who moved with the grace of a natural athlete, boosted by the somewhat lower gravity of the ship. Alanna was at a disadvantage for size and strength. But she was fast. And she might have been willing to risk it if there was a chance, even the slightest chance, of getting her hands on a gun. To stun Clara instead of trying to kill her with a screwdriver to the neck. If Clara was carrying a gun, it wasn’t visible. Alanna sighed. She was useless without a gun. She tossed the screwdriver in the air, watching it do a few turns before she caught it. Useless.

  “Almost done.” Clara reached out her hand, picking up the screwdriver Alanna automatically handed her. “A lot easier than fixing up people after a battle, isn’t it?”

  Alanna nodded cautiously.

  “The thing is…” Clara hesitated. “I’ve never actually seen combat.”

  “Never?”

  “I’ve seen a lot of drunken fights and brawls, a few murders. I’ve seen violence. But it’s not quite the same, is it?”

  “No.” Alanna agreed. “It’s not quite the same. You came from law enforcement then, new to the military?”

  “Yes. I agreed to serve if it was the Black Hawk. James says I have the right kind of personality for the job.” Clara smiled somewhat wryly. “He means that when his people get drunk and need to sleep it off, I can knock some heads, bring them down to the cells and give them a pep talk the next morning. I’ve had combat training.” She added.

  Alanna shrugged without comment.

  “What’s it like?” Clara asked, her eyes meeting Alanna’s.

  “You must know others who’ve seen combat.” Alanna put down the screwdriver carefully, looking at Clara under the bright new lights. “Why ask me?”

  “I guess I wondered what it was like for you.”

  “Combat was fine. It’s people dying that’s the problem.” She looked up at the sound of footsteps down the newly brightly lit hallway.

  “A very timely topic.” Captain James Hawk, in full uniform, said somewhat grimly. “Clara, can you give us some time? Thank you.” He gestured Alanna back towards the cell.

  Alanna walked in ahead of him, wondering if he would lock the door back up and speak through the bars. But he followed her in, sitting back down on the bed. Everyone seemed to be using it as a bench.

  “Here.” James handed her a wrapped sandwich. “You can eat while we talk.”

  “Why do you keep feeding me?” Alanna asked with a frown, unwrapping the sandwich. It was two flattened and toasted pieces of bread with ham and cheese in between. And the whole thing was hot. “And why would anyone warm up ham?” She cocked her head.

  “Eat your sandwich.” James said somewhat tensely.

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  “I didn’t say you did.”

  “Well, you’re clearly annoyed.” Alanna took a bite of the sandwich. In the frigid air of the station, maybe it did make sense.

  “I’m not… “ James paused, took a breath. “I’m not annoyed with you. Since our last conversation, you’ve done nothing wrong that I’m aware of.” He slanted a glance at her.

  “I haven’t! I saw the propaganda on my computer. I’ll keep reading it as soon as I’m done helping Clara.”

  “You mean the book on Tundran history.” James responded patiently.

  “Right, that’s what I said. It started with ‘A history of liberty and freedom in our solar system’. You see? I started reading it.”

  “Give me the computer.”

  Alanna handed it to him, watching as he pulled a key drive and uploaded a new file.

  “I disabled the wi-fi.” James said shortly. “This is the only way to transfer files. That is your military record, provided to us by Saraya at their cooperative best.”

  “You asked for my record?”

  “I did not. Apparently, we did. I need to know whether what they provided is real. Eight medals for bravery and valor, did that happen?”

  Alanna paused midbite. “That… may have happened. Would that not add value to my asylum application?”

  “It would not.” James said succinctly.

  “Well.” Alanna shrugged. “Sorry about that.”

  “I need to ask you some questions about your record.”

  “You mean like ‘have I ever shot at Tundrans?’ questions or ‘have I ever tortured civilians?’ kinds of questions?”

  “The latter.”

  “Sure, ask away.”

  “Have you ever shot at civilians?” James asked patiently.

  “No Captain, I’ve never even threatened to.” Alanna opened her green eyes as wide as they would go, looking back at him innocently.

  His mouth twitched momentarily, before all traces of humor disappeared and he continued on with his questioning. “Have you ever tortured enemy combatants?” He asked flatly.

  “No.” Alanna responded without hesitation.

  “Have you ever used or been in the presence of others who used chemical or biological weapons?”

  “Do nukes count? I’ve been evacuated just before…”

  “Tell me, would you consider this being cooperative?”

  Alanna paused, swallowing the last bite of her sandwich. “No, sir.”

  “Have you ever used or been in the presence of other Sarayans who used chemical or biological weapons?”

  “Not that I’m aware of, sir.” Alanna responded somewhat guiltily. She was going to make an effort, she reminded herself.

  “Nothing but honor, valor and bravery?” James asked mildly.

  “Well, that and the mutiny. There may have been a handful of other instances of insubordination, here and there.”

  “A handful?”

  “Yessir.”

  “Any instances of disobeying direct orders?”

  “Very few, sir.”

  James caught his hand before it touched his forehead and put it back down. “You disobeyed direct orders and that didn’t make it into your disciplinary record? Your connections must be even better than mine.”

  “You think I have connections?” Alanna laughed. Tundrans. “Oh, it definitely made it in, sir.”

  “It’s not in the record they provided.” James nodded at her computer.

  Alanna’s smile faded. “What do you mean? My disciplinary record is a mile long.”

  “I find that very easy to believe. But it’s not there. What they sent was an exemplary record of honor, valor and bravery.”

  “They want me dead.” Alanna said flatly.

  “They do. I want you to review the file they sent. In addition to a summary of your missing disciplinary record, look for any other discrepancies, anything that seems overly detailed, anything that suggests you were somewhere you hadn’t been. I want it done today. Hand it to Clara when you’re finished. Then you can go back to your history lesson.”

  “Yessir.”

  James raised an eyebrow at her. “Are you going to actually do it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you going to do a good job?”

  “I will.” Alanna nodded. “You have my word.”

  “Good.” James hesitated. “You were in the battle of Titan.” It was the biggest battle of the war, and a painful topic for both sides.

  “Ah.” Alanna shifted on the bed. “That was in there?”

  “It was.”

  “Well, if the record says.” Alanna shrugged.

  “And now you are here. Which means you lived.” James studied her closely. They both knew what that meant. Of the thousands of Sarayans stationed on Titan, exactly forty three survived. The ones who took the Tundran ship. “Tell me what happened on Titan.”

  “Do I have to?” Alanna asked glumly. “You didn’t even bring pie.”

  “You ate all the pie. And I brought you my sandwich. It’s all ration bars from here on out.”

  Alanna started guiltily. She knew she got a sandwich but she hadn’t expected him to bring her his sandwich. Of course, even on the better stocked Tundran ship, real food would be limited.

  “Fine.” Alanna shrugged, studying her feet under the blanket. “This will not be a good story. Lots of people died.”

  “I’d like to hear it anyway.” James said. He paused, looking down at the communicator on his wrist.

  Alanna thought she heard a faint vibration but after a brief glance, his eyes returned to her face, waiting patiently. She suddenly missed the protective haze of alcohol from last night. Alanna never wanted to talk about Titan. Good faith effort and cooperation, she reminded herself. She curled her feet up tighter under the blanket and began. “Titan station was Saraya’s largest outpost in Tundran space. A large military installation floating on Titan’s ocean of liquid methane. And our first ever shielded station, utilizing the geothermal power of the planet itself to power the shields. Sarayans believed Titan station to be impregnable. A shielded station with a full sensor array and eighty fully operational turret guns covering the outer perimeter.” She paused, letting the memories wash over her, first the alarms in the middle of the night, the muffled vibrations of the blasts, so much quieter in the thin atmosphere of Titan, the burning scent of methane and finally, the cold bite of the planet’s natural atmosphere on her skin, seeping inside the protective shell of the station. Sarayans had been mistaken. Titan station wasn’t impregnable.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “Taking advantage of the lower gravity, the Tundrans did what had never been done. Rather than using shuttles, they modified their ships to land on the planet itself, surrounding the station. A ground attack, with spaceships. We got a few hits but our guns were intended for long range defense. They weren’t made to be turned onto the station itself. Within minutes, the Tundran ships were sitting right on top of us, the angle of the guns would no longer permit us to get any hits. With each ship’s weapons pressed directly against our shields, the Tundrans got through. I always thought those shields were badly designed, more of a gimmick than real protection. We just liked saying we had shields.” Alanna shrugged. “Once the Tundrans pierced the station, their people went in, all in vacuum rated gear. The cold and poison of Titan’s atmosphere came in with them. My unit was stationed on the outer perimeter. When the hull was breached, we were one of the first hit. We had less than two minutes to get into vacuum rated gear.” Her mouth tightened. “A lot of people died without a shot being fired. Our commanding officer was one of them. He was no Captain Mace. He wanted to make sure his people were protected before putting on his own gear. He ran out of time. Death by vacuum.”

  Alanna paused, not particularly eager to go on. She looked over at James but he said nothing, waiting patiently. Good faith cooperation, she reminded herself once again. “Central command instructions were simple, kill Tundrans, hold the station at all costs. They were sure we had the manpower to hold. After all, Tundra was a backwater upstart with no resources. It never occurred to them we might lose. More people died.” Alanna stared out at the bars of the cell.

  “You’re stalling.” James said flatly.

  Alanna shrugged. “We took the ship. We went home.”

  “I’m trying to help you.”

  “I didn’t ask for your help.”

  “You promised to cooperate.” James reminded her.

  “Why do you need to know this? I was on Titan. Now I’m here. You know I was one of the ones that took the ship. What will the details get you?”

  “I can’t protect you unless I know where the danger lies. When it comes to Titan, I need know everything.”

  “It won’t help.”

  “I need to know.”

  “And I am telling you, it won’t help.”

  “Alanna, do not fuck with me.”

  Alanna sighed. He wasn’t backing down, and they both knew she couldn’t win. “As I recall, my exact words were ‘fuck it, let’s take one of their ships.’ ” She said, resigned.

  James sat up, his focus suddenly so intense it made her shrink back against the wall. “You?” He said. “That was you?”

  “I told you it wouldn’t help.”

  “Tell me everything.”

  “Our orders were to hold the station at all costs. Within a few hours, the station hull was more holes than metal. Even the secondary layers were riddled with holes. We were going to run out of oxygen. Soon, our only option would be to turn on each other to take what oxygen tanks we could. All the Tundrans would need to do was go back to their ships and wait us out. The orders…” Alanna hesitated, searching for words.

  “Those orders were stupid.” James supplied.

  “Well… yes. Our commanding officer was dead. And we were facing certain death. So I said fuck it, let’s take a Tundran ship.”

  “Anyone can say it. You did it. How?”

  “We chose the smallest of the ships, assuming it would be the easiest to take. Going in the front door was out. It was guarded and we didn’t have enough people. Plus, the Tundran reinforcements were too close. They would call for backup and we would be trapped without room to retreat. We needed a better plan.”

  “And then someone made another ‘suggestion’.” James murmured.

  “Yes.”

  “And they all followed you, unanimously.”

  “Well it was that or certain death, so yes.” Alanna shrugged.

  “You were in the navy for less than a year.”

  “It was either that or certain death.” Alanna reminded him. It wasn’t as if people just followed her. It was circumstantial. “In my spare time, I was doing some geological research on Titan. The surface is not just liquid methane. Titan has cliffs, created by volcanic activity and hardened to stone once the lava reaches the surface. These cliffs weren’t stable enough to house the station but we could predict volcanic activity well enough to check them out, do some drilling.”

  “I always wondered how Sarayans pierced the hull in the rear of the ship.”

  “To avoid the turret guns, the Tundrans needed to move their ships right up against Titan station. The Tundran ships and the station all floating together on liquid methane. With the station’s artificial gravity long gone and Titan’s gravity being relatively low, one of the recruits and I picked up the drill and just walked the damn thing right across the top of the Tundran ship. We went to the back of the ship, around the engines where the drill’s fuel signature and the noise were least likely to get noticed, and started drilling. Once others saw we were making progress, they made a run for it. Of course, by then Tundrans noticed the noise. The drill was made for stone, not for piercing the hull of an armored ship. By the time we made a hole big enough to get through, the Tundrans were waiting for us.” Alanna paused.

  “And?” James prompted.

  “And then more people died. I wanted to go in first but others stopped me. People got shot. People died.”

  “But how did you take the bridge? How many of you were there?”

  “There were sixty of us.”

  “And forty three went home alive.” James said quietly. There was a skeleton crew of twelve on that ship when the Sarayans made their move, and if Alanna’s numbers were to be believed, seventeed Sarayans died before the ship was taken. And she had been working with untrained recruits against a seasoned Tundran crew. Those numbers should not have been possible. “How?” He asked again.

  “Once we were on the ship, we knew taking the bridge directly meant most of us would die. We had to draw the Tundrans out. So we went after the engine. And it worked, they came to us.” They should not have done it, Alanna thought. The Tundran crew, had made their own mistake. But she didn’t say it. They died for their mistake. They had paid in full.

  “You made the Tundran ship’s crew come to you.” James whistled softly. No lucky stab in the dark, this operation. Every detail had been carefully planned.

  “Right. Like I said, we took the ship, we went home. The end.”

  “Wow.” James said.

  Alanna shook her head. The look he was giving her was unmistakable. “This is really doing it for you, isn’t it?” She said, balanced on the fine edge between bemusement and fear.

  “Yes.” James said, his eyes laser focused on her. “That operation was incredible. You, were incredible. It’s part of our standard curriculum at the naval academy. A pointed reminder not to get complacent about Sarayan tactics. And no one ever imagined you did it with sixty new recruits. So yes, wow. But then, why are you here? On D12? And not even in command. You know how you look. You should have been on every recruitment poster the Sarayan Navy ever made, as the greatest Sarayan hero of Titan.”

  “Really?” Alanna said, a note of bitterness creeping into her voice. “You say that now but how do you like it when your orders get disobeyed?”

  “The orders were to hold the station.”

  “At all costs.” Alanna quoted.

  “And you left.”

  “Yes.”

  “You made the entire Sarayan Central Command look stupid, didn’t you?”

  “No comment.” Alanna said shortly.

  “And everyone on D12 knew it. Knew exactly what you did on Titan. Knew exactly why Sarayan Central Command wouldn’t trade for you. And none of them said a word.”

  “You questioned them!” Alanna sat up, enraged.

  “I said we would question them.”

  “You said they would not be harmed!”

  “They weren’t. They were just questions, Alanna. They said what they wanted to say. And they talked about operation Cherry Pie, at length.”

  “Well I don’t care about that.” Alanna leaned back against the wall, frustrated. There was no way for her to know what he had done to her people. She was completely helpless.

  “I do. And I understand why they did it. To give you credit for the prize you handed me.” James released a breath. “It would have been a goddamn disaster, this mission. I would still win, but the cost… a goddamn disaster.” How many people would he have lost, taking a station held by a civilian crew of forty? “I’m glad I never had to go up against you.” He said with complete honesty.

  Alanna shrugged. “I run hot and cold. Did they send over my transcript?”

  “They did.”

  “Did you see my hand-to-hand combat grade?”

  “I did. You must have really pissed off the teacher.”

  “Right, always a safe bet with me. But actually, no. Not this time.”

  “Then why? You barely passed.”

  “Ah.” Alanna reached down and offered him a ration bar from her stash on the floor, before taking another one for herself. “Occam’s razor, captain.”

  “The simplest explanation…” He frowned. “You’re that bad? Was it an advanced class of some sort?”

  “Well.” Alanna took a bite of her ration bar with some satisfaction. “Put it this way. Half the class were conscripts.” She smiled, appreciating the genuinely horrified look on this face. “I did qualify for sniper training.” She reminded him, starting to feel defensive.

  “That will be exceedingly useful the next time you get your hands on a gun.”

  “Exactly.” Alanna nodded. “I felt the engines come on.” She added.

  “I know.”

  “So, seeing as we are on the way back to Tundra and my situation can be summed up as ‘outlook not so good’, is there any chance we can revisit the gun conversation? Maybe just leave it out on Clara’s desk and…”

  “No.” James said sharply.

  “I would put out for a gun.” Alanna tried.

  James frowned. “I don’t need… No. Just no.”

  “I know you don’t need me to but if cooperation is a factor…”

  “No guns.”

  “Ok then.” She could feel the vibration of the engines through every surface now. The Black Hawk was flying home, and his response left no room for negotiation. “When we land, am I going to prison?”

  He hesitated. “Yes, you are. I can help you but it will all take – some time. Just be patient and give me a chance to fix this, all right?” James hesitated, unsure of how to phrase what he wanted to say. “You’re not well right now.” He finally said. “That doesn’t mean you can’t get better. You’re what, twenty five years old? Your whole life is still ahead of you. You can have a life. I can help you.” He repeated.

  Alanna looked down, not wanting to see what was in his eyes. There was worry, and what she thought might be a touch of pity. Good times.

  ---

  She spent the rest of the afternoon writing out her best recollection of her disciplinary history. Absentmindedly, she reached down for another one of the ration bars piled under her bed. This was going to take some time. Several hours later, she opened the unlocked cell door and walked over to Clara, handing over the results of her efforts. “I reviewed the files they provided, as well. Everything looked right to me, they just forgot to include my disciplinary record.”

  Clara nodded, picking up her computer and taking a quick glance at what Alanna had written. She scrolled down. Then scrolled down some more. The text kept going. “Quite an oversight.” She said mildly.

  “These things happen.” Alanna responded, deadpan.

  “Sure.” Clara said. “Not to me personally, mind you. But sure.” She pulled the key drive and transferred the relevant files before handing back the computer. “I’ll let him know.”

  Alanna went back to her cell quietly, to await the prison transfer. A part of her resented the hope they were trying to give her. She had already accepted the worst. She had a few years’ head start. Bit by bit, James Hawk and Clara were starting to get through. It was annoying. She curled up under the blanket and pulled the Tundran history book back up on her computer.

  ---

  A few hours later, Alanna looked up to find six gun barrels trained directly on her. One of the drones was hovering outside her cell, still camouflaged to look like the glittering rough diamond surface of D12. Commander Hodgins stood behind the drone, arms crossed. “I heard you wanted to see Tom. I’m here to take you.” He said shortly.

  “Thank you.” Alanna got up, eyeing the drone. “Something on your mind, Henry?”

  “It’s the basic arithmetic that’s been keeping me up at night, lieutenant. I keep dividing forty one by ten.” Henry gestured in front of him, letting Alanna precede him down the hallway. Unlike Clara, he did have a gun, Alanna noted. Odds of getting her hands on it seemed slim.

  “If everyone weren’t so damn efficient, the math would have worked out fine.” She muttered under her breath.

  “You knew this was the Black Hawk. You knew it was Captain James Hawk in command. Tell me, what gave you the impression that we wouldn’t be efficient?” Henry asked sharply.

  It was a fair question. What she had certainly never done, not for even the briefest moment, was consider the discomfort of the Black Hawk crew with the somewhat imperfect terms of their surrender. “I figured you wouldn’t care.” Alanna said finally, defaulting to honesty. “If you trade back the forty civilians, it’s good enough. Who cares about the rest?”

  “You asked me.” Henry snapped, his previously silent steps now echoing as he led her down the ship’s hallways. “You asked me if he would keep his word, and I said yes.”

  “It’s kept. As long as the civilian crew of D12 are returned to Saraya, it’s kept. No one owes me anything.” Alanna spread out her hands, looking warily at the drone that seemed to pause and focus on her with even greater intensity. She didn’t want to get stunned again. Getting stunned meant losing the opportunity to say goodbye.

  “They won’t see it that way.” Henry said curtly, speaking for the Black Hawk crew. Come to that, he didn’t quite see it that way, either. “It’s a hell of a mess to ask James to fix.”

  “That… was not foreseeable.” Alanna responded frankly.

  “Turn right here.” Henry led her down another hallway. “We’re almost there. All I’m going to say is this. You’d bloody well better cooperate. Foreseeable or not, this is your mess. It’s a miracle James came up with a solution at all. We’re here.”

  Two more drones had joined them as they entered the docking bay. Alanna released her breath as the slightly warmer temperature hit her. She wasn’t sure if it was all the people crowded into the tight space or a change in temperature settings but the docking bay was warmer. Forty miners were sprawled around the space, their quiet chatter turning to silence as she walked into the bay. Alanna paused in the doorway, suddenly self-conscious from so many eyes turning to her.

  “Alanna!” Tom’s voice shouted from the back. He came over and embraced her in a bear hug without hesitation, before pulling back to study her face. “You look good.” He said, surprise evident in his voice.

  Tom looked like hell. He seemed to have lost even more weight and the shadows under his eyes had gotten darker. He looked exhausted. Alanna glanced around and did not see those signs of exhaustion echoed on the faces of others. “Tom, I’m perfectly all right.” She said firmly. “Really. The Tundrans…” She hesitated. But then, what the hell? If it made Tom feel better. “The Tundrans have submitted my application for asylum. I’m going to live.” She gave Tom her best, brightest smile, hoping it managed to reach her eyes. The fact that every single person in that docking bay could overhear the conversation didn’t matter, really. They would all see the video when they got back home, if they hadn’t already. As Captain James Hawk had said, her path was set.

  Tom studied her with his tired, worried eyes. “Good.” he said firmly. “Take it. Give them whatever they want. Live. It’s not worth your life either, Alanna. You need to watch out for number one. You hear me?”

  Alanna nodded. By her calculations, the Black Hawk would return to Tundra sometime tomorrow. This was goodbye.

  “I will.” she said firmly. “Goodbye, Tom.” She turned to the rest of the room. “Goodbye, everyone. Take care.” She was about to turn around when she heard the rustle of people rising. They were all standing now, a few claps here and there starting out slow and then building up to a thunderous applause.

  Right. Alanna waived her hand awkwardly, backing out the door.

  Commander Hodgins stood aside, again letting her precede him on the way out.

  They walked back down the hallways in silence. Alanna glanced back briefly, noting the way Henry crossed his arms, glaring at her back.

  “What?”

  “You could have looked more enthusiastic in the damn video. That’s all I’m saying.” He said pointedly. He led her back to her cell.

  Clara came by a few minutes after Henry departed. “I think you should take another shower.” She said, somewhat abruptly. “There isn’t much time and I want to make sure your hair is dry before we land.”

  Alanna’s mouth tightened. She was not overly eager to increase her prison value but in the spirit of good faith and cooperation, she got up obediently and went for another shower. Tundrans had real water on their ship, and the water pressure was off the charts. After years of D12’s dry cleaning facilities, it was glorious. Afterwards, Clara handed her a fresh set of clothes. The ‘presentable’ black sweater and slacks she had been given earlier were replaced with loose, neon green colored pants, and a long sleeved shirt in the same painfully ugly green. Of course, Tundran prison garb would be green. Because nothing else on that damned planet ever was. Alanna searched Clara’s eyes and noted that she was avoiding her gaze. Yes indeed, good times.

  Clara spoke up into the silence. “You are going to cooperate, right?” She looked worried.

  “I promised just about everyone that I would. So yes, I will.” Alanna said, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. It was not yet clear what cooperation would entail. She diligently ate the rest of the ration bars she had left in her cell. If her goal was to survive prison, that would be the thing to do.

  ---

  Alanna woke up the next morning, awakened by the sudden absence of vibration that signaled the ship’s engines were working. They had arrived. She could hear the soft sounds of Clara making coffee in her office, within hearing range of the cells. Everything else was eerily quiet. Clara came in and handed her what was likely to be her last cup of hot coffee for a while. Alanna accepted it gratefully. Whatever happened later, she was going to enjoy her cup of coffee.

  “Thank you for the coffee.” She said with forced good cheer. “Do you think I can keep the blanket?”

  Clara swallowed. “No. I’ll give it back.”

  “Give it back? I thought it was yours. I wanted to thank you, by the way. It helped.”

  Clara shook her head. “It wasn’t mine. Someone else asked me to give it to you.”

  Alanna was puzzled. It hadn’t been Captain Hawk, she knew. He had been surprised when he saw the blanket. “Whose was it?” she asked curiously.

  Clara shrugged. “It was just a crew member. You don’t know them.”

  “Was it the Arthur guy, the pilot? Captain Hawk mentioned he came from a miner family.”

  “It wasn’t anyone you know.” Clara repeated. “Just a random member of this crew. Because they’re grateful to you for the lives you saved. Tundran prison is – it’s not great. But you have more goodwill than you realize. It will work itself out.” Clara picked up her cup and got up. “Good luck, lieutenant.” She stood to attention, and gave a sharp, formal salute. Then she walked out of the cell. Alanna heard the lock on the cell door fall into place.