“Five minutes to stasis containment failure.”

  Roarke didn’t look away from the pod. “Carrick. Can you find out what’s wrong?”

  Carrick shook his head. “Not without interfacing directly. Stasis pods are standalone. They’re isolated from the ship’s systems apart from the power supply, and you don’t want to mess with that.”

  Roarke exhaled. “Then interface.”

  Carrick snatched up a diagnostic tablet and moved toward the blinking stasis pod. He reached the access panel and went to connect, but Rook stepped into his path.

  “I cannot allow you to access classified data,” he said.

  Carrick stared at him. “And I can’t allow someone to die when there’s something I might be able to do about it. Now get out of my way!”

  Rook didn’t answer. He held his position, blocking the port with his body.

  Carrick tried to shoulder past him.

  It was a mistake.

  Rook stepped in close and hooked a foot behind Carrick’s ankle, turning with the motion. Carrick lost his balance and went down hard, the impact jarring his body. The tablet skittered across the deck and slid to a stop.

  Carrick swore, his breath coming in short, furious gasps. He planted a hand on the deck and started to push himself up.

  “Stay down,” Rook said.

  Carrick froze, half-crouched.

  The security officer straightened and drew his weapon, holding it at a low angle.

  “Stand down.” Roarke said, one hand raised, his voice level despite the sudden tightness in his chest.

  “Negative,” Rook replied. “Access to the stasis pod data is restricted.”

  “Four minutes to stasis containment failure.”

  “Rook,” Mavik said, slowly approaching, hands held before him. “Can I try something?”

  Rook didn’t reply.

  “I’ve been working on a stabiliser, it lessens the effects of de-stupe. I’ve just tried it on myself. It works.”

  He motioned with his hands, pointing to his medical pouch strapped over his shoulder. “Can I show you this?” he said.

  “It’s true,” Hale stammered. “He reprogrammed Elliot to de-stupe him on purpose. He walked out of the stasis pod as if nothing happened. It works.”

  Mavik nodded exaggeratedly as he slowly moved his hand towards his pouch. “No data breach. I just need to access the IV port and everybody comes out alive. What do you say?” Mavik cocked his head.

  Rook levelled the gun at Mavik. “Hands where I can see them,” he said.

  Mavik complied.

  “Now, slowly. Two fingers. Reach into your bag. Slowly.”

  Eyes wide, Mavik reached into his pouch and slowly drew out a syringe. He held it out in front of him in trembling fingers. “See? It’s just a syringe.”

  Rook considered, then spoke.“OK,” he said, “You may administer it under my supervision.”

  As Rook lowered his gun, Mavik took a step towards the stasis pod, then plunged the syringe into Rook’s neck.

  Rook jerked as the syringe bit, one hand flying to his neck instinctively. His other hand shot out and closed around Mavik’s throat, fingers digging in hard enough to make him gasp. Rook's pistol clattered to the deck.

  For a heartbeat they stood locked together. Then, Rook’s grip faltered, his knees buckled. He dragged Mavik down with him, breath rasping, eyes unfocused, before his hand finally loosened. Rook collapsed heavily onto his side, twitching as the injection took hold.

  Mavik staggered back, coughing, one hand at his bruised throat. He bent, snatched up the fallen gun, and backed away from the body, holding it awkwardly.

  Hale watched on in shock.

  “What the hell have you done?” Roarke shouted. “You’ve just assaulted a sanctioned INA officer carrying out his mission. I should throw you in the brig!”

  “I did what I had to do!” Mavik said, trembling. “Carrick, get that diagnostic tablet interfaced. I still need the data if I’m going to dose this correctly. It’s hit or miss but it’s better than doing nothing.”

  “Carrick, stand down,”

  “For the love of God, we’re trying to save a life, not trying to hack the INA mainframe. If I can get that data, the cargo has a chance to survive, if I don’t.” He shrugged. “Well, on your head be it.”

  “Three minutes to stasis containment failure.”

  “I just need basic biometrics. Age, sex, weight, any metabolic disease. What can be classified about that?”

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  He looked at Roarke, eyes pleading.

  “It’s all in the personal data file. I’m authorised to access medical data.” Mavik was shouting.

  Roarke was silent.

  Mavik steadied himself and spoke calmly and deliberately. “If anything, captain, you committed a breach of medical ethics by not letting me examine a passenger who is under my responsibility. I would have examined them myself if INA hadn’t sneaked them onboard in a sealed pod. The whole thing is unethical!”

  “Carrick,” Roarke hesitated. “Give him the data he asked for, nothing more, nothing less.”

  Carrick looked at his captain, uncertain.

  “I take full responsibility," Roarke said.

  “Two minutes to stasis containment failure.”

  Carrick rushed to plug in the diagnostic tablet.

  “Unauthorised stasis pod data access,” ELIOT announced.

  “I know,” Carrick mumbled as he hurriedly tapped on the screen, before holding it up in front of Mavik.

  “Hmm, OK, OK, damn, cardiac irregularity…” Mavik said, reading from the screen.

  “You done?” Carrick asked.

  “Yes.”

  Carrick tore the cable free and flung the tablet aside like it was cursed.

  Mavik drew a second syringe from his pouch and took a deep breath. “This is going to be close. I can’t access the internal IV port while the stasis field is on. I’ll have to inject it directly into the reservoir outputs.”

  Hale swallowed. “They’re protected.”

  “Yes,” Mavik said. “They are.” He set the syringe between his teeth and pulled out a metal access key. “But as senior medical officer, I am authorised to access them.”

  He quickly undid several screws and a length of metal shielding clattered to the floor, exposing a tight cluster of translucent tubes beneath.

  “There,” Mavik said, bringing the syringe level with the junction. “All I need to do is get the dose right, and release it at the right speed. No safety net.”

  He didn’t look up. “Countdown.”

  “One minute to stasis containment failure.”

  Mavik pressed the plunger down a fraction. He kept the pressure constant as ELIOT counted down the seconds, emptying the chamber just as the shipmind announced,

  “Stasis containment failure.”

  “It’s not opening,” Hale said.

  “It isn’t meant to,” Carrick said. “It’s a failure, not a shutdown. We need an access key.”

  Mavik held his key out to the engineer, who used it to open the pod.

  The door unsealed, revealing a female figure covered in a shroud. Mavik put two fingers to her neck. “She’s alive,” he said. “But we need to get her to med-bay. Carrick, give me a hand. Hale, fetch me a gurney. Captain, if you wouldn’t mind, could you pass me the O2.

  “Where’s Rook when you need some muscle?” he added under his breath.

  “He’s asleep over there,” Carrick said, pointing to Rook, still sprawled unconscious on the floor.

  By the time Hale returned to the bridge with the gurney, Mavik had placed the oxygen mask on the pod occupant’s face, pushing aside a curtain of matted hair that had fallen across it.

  A warning tone pulsed from the navigation console.

  “Hale,” Roarke said, glancing at the display. “Check that out.”

  Mavik and Carrick lifted the occupant onto the gurney, stepping around Rook as they passed.

  “Perhaps we should take him there too,” Carrick suggested.

  “Not a bad idea, we could keep him restrained,” Mavik replied.

  “You will do no such thing,” Roarke said.

  “Quite right, Captain. There wouldn’t be enough room,” Mavik said.

  ***

  The med-bay doors slid open. As the gurney crossed the threshold, the light inside shifted to a hard clinical white. The doors sealed again behind them with a soft hiss, shutting out the noise from the bridge.

  “Set her down. Easy.” Mavik guided the gurney alongside the central medical couch and reached for the overhead rig, pulling it down with a practised tug. Monitors came alive as he clipped sensors to the woman’s chest and neck, the displays filling with erratic lines.

  She convulsed suddenly, a sharp gasp tearing through the oxygen mask. Her hands clawed weakly at the shroud, fingers twitching.

  “Easy,” Mavik said. “Don’t fight it. Breathe.”

  Her eyes opened, unfocused, pupils slow to react. A hoarse sound escaped her throat and her heart rate spiked hard enough to set off a shrill alert.

  Carrick flinched. “That normal?”

  “No,” Mavik said. “But she’ll survive.” He inserted a catheter into her arm, then watched the monitor with narrowed eyes. “Just.”

  The door opened. Roarke stood in the doorway, one hand braced against the frame. “Can she talk?”

  “Not yet,” Mavik said. “She’s barely conscious.” He glanced back at the patient as her breathing settled into a shallow, ragged pattern. “If she gets agitated again, I’ll have to sedate her.”

  Roarke nodded. “Do it. Carrick, with me.”

  Back on the bridge, Hale stood at the navigation console, eyes flicking between the star map and the status readouts streaming past.

  “Captain,” she said. “The Rift. It’s getting closer.”

  “Show me,” Roarke replied.

  They were distracted by Rook groaning. He rose quickly and surveyed the bridge. His hand went instinctively to his empty holster.

  “Where is he?” he said.

  “He’s in med-bay, dealing with your charge. It doesn’t change what he did to you, but it looks like he’s saved her.”

  “I want him in the brig.”

  “So do I, but for the moment, we need him. Everything is logged, he’ll be charged with assault when we reach the next INA station.”

  “Insufficient. He assaulted me and took my weapon.”

  “He assaulted you, but he didn’t take your weapon. It’s there.” He pointed to the pistol lying on a console. Rook picked it up, examined it, and put it in his holster.

  “I want him in the brig.” Rook said flatly.

  Roarke turned to face him, jaw clenched. “What he did was wrong and he’ll be punished, but at the moment I have more important things to deal with. We’re stuck in deep space with no FTL. There’s a space anomaly acting in a way that’s never been recorded before. So if you don’t mind, I have a ship to captain.” He turned back to Hale.

  “We’re going nowhere fast. Reverse thrust, thirty millisecond burn. Bring us to zero velocity.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  The fusion drive flared briefly, a muted shudder running through the deck. Hale watched the velocity readout bleeding away to zero.

  “Reverse burn complete,” she said. “We’re stationary.”

  “Update the charts, let’s see if anyone back home is watching.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Hale paused, staring at her console. “I’m sorry sir, I can’t get a data signal.”

  Hale frowned and ran the check again. “Correction,” she said. “I am getting a signal.”

  Roarke turned. “Then why the delay?”

  Her fingers slowed. “The data’s coming through.”

  Carrick leaned in. “So what’s the problem?”

  Hale swallowed. “The timestamp. It reads Two hours, twelve minutes ago,” she said.

  Roarke’s jaw tightened. “That’s when we dropped out of FTL.”

  “Charts are updated at least hourly,” Carrick said. “Why are they sending us old data? Try again.”

  Hale looked to the captain. He nodded.

  They waited.

  “Signal received,” Hale said after a while. Her voice had gone very still. “Same packets. Same checksum.” She paused. “Same timestamp.”

  “Elliot, what does this mean?” Roarke asked.

  “Unknown.”

  “Then speculate.”

  “Speculative analysis enabled,” ELIOT said. “Based on available data, the most probable interpretation is that this vessel is no longer progressing along the temporal reference frame used by the interstellar network.”

  At that moment, the bridge door hissed open.

  “She’s stable,” Mavik announced from the doorway, then he saw Rook still standing sentinel next to the empty stasis pod. “Oh.”

  Rook moved towards him.

  The captain stood and fixed him with a level stare.

  Rook stopped and took a step back.

  Mavik advanced, keeping his front to Rook, hands held up in supplication. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But I had to do it.”

  Rook said nothing but his gaze never left Mavik as he made his way to join the others. They ignored him as he took his seat.

  “Elliot, repeat what you just said, but make it as simple as possible,” Roarke said.

  There was a pause.

  “Outside of this vessel,” ELIOT said, “time is effectively no longer advancing.”

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  The Chronicles of Heraldria, is available on Amazon here