Chapter Eleven
The idea of having a baby in transport was something that had happened countless times over the span of humanity, but it never got any easier, and Sketch didn't care for the idea of being short-handed on the ship as he was.
"I'm going to induce labor now, if you don't mind, Captain," Jez said to him over the intercoms. "Assuming everything goes nice and normal, I should have the baby out by the time we reach Reltbex, and we should be able to deposit the baby with her family and get the mother back to Jeratine before anyone's the wiser."
"Roger Jez," Sketch said back to her from his place on the bridge. "Get that started and we'll start moseying on over."
"Remember, Captain, no using ring gates until after we have the newborn off the ship," Jez said. "Prenatal and neonatal humanoids don't react well to the gates."
"Not my first rodeo, Jez, but thank you for the reminder nonetheless," he chuckled. "Give a holler if you need anything else. Sketch out."
"You're not worried about Dominion ships, boss?" Lara asked him.
"Why?" he laughed. "If anything, we're doing the least number of illegal things right now than we have been in months. Sure, we had to smuggle her off Jeratine, but the Dominion's not going to give a shit about that. As it stands, right now we're basically operating in the clear in terms of legality. This is basically just a chartered voyage right now. Plenty of opportunity to gauge you and your wife's skills at work."
"You don't need to worry about us, boss," Lara said. "We're rock solid."
"You're not the one I'm worried about, Lara," Sketch said. "It's the carabel addict I'm concerned with."
"She's not that bad, boss."
"Again, it's not
her
, I'm worried about. It's the carabel addict
inside
of her," he sighed. "That shit's insidious. I understand the usefulness in making sure you have steady hands and aren't plagued by nightmares of soldiers dying around you, but it's all too easy to get trapped and addicted to the soft, pillow fort life that carabel gives you. No real anger, no real fear - just an entire existence of mellowed out, middle-of-the-road, worriless daydreams. They're blissed out zombies. Of course, they have the reflexes of an antique telegraph machine playing chess by mail, and less ability to defend themselves than stoned koala bears, but hey, what's the harm in that, right?"
Lara nodded quietly. "I know. Believe me, I know. That's why I've been trying to keep her under a tight leash for it, but she's gotta fight that demon off herself. She knows exactly how addictive it can be, but she's using it responsibly, just when she's having hard attacks."
"Time will tell if you're right, Lara."
"Captain," Helen's voice said over the intercom. "Perhaps you should look ahead on our long-range scanners."
"Alright, Helen, put it up on holo," he said as a three-dimensional image of the ship, the system and their flightpath appeared, taking them through a large gray stripe in the middle. "Ah, bollocks, yeah, that's not ideal."
"Where the hell did this comet come from?" Lara said.
"Somewhere else in space, obviously," Sketch said. "Besides, where it came from is least of our problems. We're going to have to go around it, aren't we?"
"I mean, I could
try
and fly us through the wash of the comet, but it'll be a lot safer to fly around it."
"How much slower?"
"Another day? Maybe two?"
Sketch blanched. "And how much riskier to fly through it?"
"Call it 50/50 we come through unscathed, 20% chance of a major accident."
"Sounds like a good test for a potential pilot then, don't you think?" Sketch said with a grin. "Or are you--"
"Game on, oh Cap'n my Captain!"
"That's what I like to hear," Sketch said. "Steady as she goes, Helen."
"As who goes, Captain?"
Sketch let out a very deep sigh, almost certain she was kidding, but with Helen one never could tell. "It means--"
"Gotcha!" she giggled.
"If you had an ass, Helen, I would kick you in it."
"If I had an ass, Captain, I would make it look
good
."
Half an hour later, they were doing something Sketch himself would've never dared try if he was piloting - flying through the wake of a comet. It was similar to flying through an asteroid field, except all the asteroids were on the move at a much higher velocity. It meant lots of micro adjustments and a constant shift and drift philosophy, one which took up all of Lara's focus, and much of Helen's as well, the two working in tandem to keep the ship on a line that steered them clear of any debris large enough to cause problems by piercing the hull. Sure, there were minor bumps and scrapes, but as long as they didn't hit anything big enough to do damage, that was just fine by him.
The two were so intently focused on their work that Sketch felt it best to leave them alone, and headed down to see how Jez was getting along with her delivery. He could hear an infant crying, which meant that the delivery had happened, something which let Sketch relax just a little bit over.
Relaxing was the mistake.
As soon as he came around the corner, he noticed Pertixi lying in his medical bed, her child in one arm. That part was fine. The part that wasn't was the sidearm she had extended, pointing over in Jezebel's direction. "Tell him! Or I swear to high heavens I'll blast each and every one of you before I take over this ship myself."
"She doesn't want to go
back
to Jeratine, Sketch," Jezebel said to him. "She wants to stay on Reltbex with her sister."
Sketch sort of looked at her, not comprehending. "And?"
"And?!" Pertixi said. "And I know you bastards were contracted to take me over Reltbex, strip my baby from me and then haul me back to Jeratine and dump me there without my son!"
"That was what was the client requested," Sketch said, his hand keeping as far from his sidearm as he could. He did, however, start tapping into the Ashaka, pushing her down the path of The Calm, trying to ease her out of the fight-or-flight response she was locked into. He could feel the tension threading through her body, but it was difficult to manage it, because she still had all the hormones and adrenaline from giving birth flowing through her body, placing her in a heightened state of awareness. "If you've got a different--"
"Fucking hell! Yes! I have a different request!" she shouted, still shaking the firearm in Jezebel's direction. "I do not want to go back to Jeratine! I do not wish to abandon my son to my sister's care! I want to raise him on my own, and if that means I need to never return to Jeratine, well, then by God's even eye, that is what I aim to do!"
"That's
fine
," Sketch said, waving his hands calmingly in her direction. "I wish you'd have told us before we left Jeratine, because it's going to be more of a pain in the ass to get my people off and convince people you're still there
now
, especially since we've had contact with you, but we'll make it work, I promise you. But you gotta lower that weapon. I can't have anyone shooting at my crew, can I?"
"I thought you said she was 'auditioning' to be your crew," Pertixi said cautiously at him.
"She
is
, but she's kept her cool so far while the person I was assured was a milk run has had a gun leveled at her for a minute or two now," Sketch said. He'd tapped into the The Calm now, and was flowing her into it, and he could feel it starting to take root in her, starting to lull her into security. "Can you please put the gun down now?"
"You swear you ain't gonna take me back to Jeratine?"
"As far as I'm concerned, whoever the passenger is decides where they get off, and seeing as I'm the Captain, my concern's all that really matters," he said, trying to keep his voice as level as he could. That newborn child in her arms was complicating all sorts of things - emotions, logic, deduction - but if he could get her to put the weapon down, they'd be fine. He pushed harder with The Calm, finding it a little more challenging than he'd remembered, but he attributed that to how long it had been since he'd had an Ashaka reliably under his control, and the fact that the Ashaka he was using belonged to someone else before him, an unusual arrangement, at least as far as he'd known. "You have my word, Pertixi. Nobody's splitting you and your baby up."
Pertixi lowered the gun and rested it on top of the bed just off to the side of her leg, atop the blanket. "You best be a man of your word, Captain, or I will hunt and kill every last one of your crew, ending with you."
"I am, I assure you," he said, gesturing for Jezebel to come out of the room and over to join him in the hallway. Once the two of them were out of earshot range, he leaned in and lowered his voice. "So, other than the firearm we should've found earlier, how's she doing?"
"She wasn't even
hiding
the sidearm, Sketch, so you're just as much at fault for that as any of us."
"I didn't expect her to go all Mother Gunner on us," he chuckled. "But yeah, that one's on me. Still, answer the question."
"Perfectly healthy boy there, although I had to give him a stabilizer shot, to cure him of some of the backwoods stuff his momma picked up living in Pioneertown," she snorted derisively. "Should I strip her of all the germs and other shit she's picked up living among the dirt people?"
"Your bedside manner can definitely use some work, but yes, get her clean and healthy," Sketch said. "Especially if we're not taking her back there. Fuck those people and their insane attitudes towards medicine. I want to make sure she and that baby are the best possible condition when we get to Reltbex, because I don't think
we're
the ones she's got an argument with."
"Oh yeah?" She glanced back into the room before looking back at Sketch. "You think the sister's got ulterior motives?"
"I think it's rather suspicious that the sister didn't have any contingency plans that involved the mother and child sticking together," Sketch said. "I thought it was odd when your mom gave us the pitch, but it was on drop call, so obviously I couldn't discuss it with her. To me, it feels like we got two levels of client here - the mother, who contracted us through the sister, and the sister, who may or may not have her own agenda. Which means the drop off may get a little dicey."
"Aren't they always?"
"Didn't use to be," Sketch grumbled. "I liked it when things were nice and simple, and I could drop off packages away from people. Money was always there, and I never missed a drop."
"Ah, back when you didn't have to worry about
people being people
," she chuckled. "God, your life sounds like it used to be so boring."
"Boring was fine," he said. "Boring was stable. Boring was survivable."
"But it wasn't any