Star Trek Outwardly Mobile

Episode 55b Starliner California
By
Jay P Hailey

Carter Ashby looked out the windows of the Starliner California. The stars he saw there were debris. Space was black, a black canvas. Rather it was a mirror that reflected your soul back to you.

Carter grunted at himself for giving in to such maundering thoughts. Far better to think practically.

But it didn't help. They were still stuck. Inside a dark nebula orbiting a fresh new star. In a million years or so, it might blow away the dark cloud that stifled them.

Carter put his glass in the replicator and said "Refill"

He watched excellent brandy sparkle into existence in the glass. Was he drinking too much again? It was so hard to tell.

Some song or other played softly in the background. Debris, piece of hull, piece of engine, pieces of things critical to moved the damned ship floated out there in the blackness. Some of the crew floated out there, too. Carter wondered if they were the lucky ones.

Again he shook himself. While there was life, there was hope. The cry of the faction decried as "Boy Scouts" Passengers and former crew of the Starliner who remained fiercely plucky and optimistic in the face of three decades trapped in their little pocket of hell.

Carter tried to be a contentious member of the Boy Scouts. It made sense. It was his culture. It was how he saw himself.

But thirty five years had a way of wearing on you.

He had long ago stopped thinking of what the ship lacked. Her warp core. Her navigational computers. A bridge. Most of one nacelle and a large chunk of the other.

Sometime Carter longed for the Pirates to return, just for something real to do, something real to fight and strive against, no matter how hopeless.

Carter considered visiting the howling madmen in their improvised brig. With effort Cart realized that more than half the Pirate Boarding party had long since integrated with the hapless community of the Starliner California.

Those left refused to play nice, and so were locked away until the rescue. For thirty five years now.

Carter used to talk to some of them. It seemed they were experiencing this situation in the most honest and undiluted fashion. But these days, the Kzin just huddled in a ball. The Klingon just gibbered. And the Orion, found with the remains of three women strung around his quarters simply talked a long running third person rambling dialog about killing. He never stopped as far as anyone could tell.

The door to the obscure lounge opened. Hannah walked in. Carter tried to remember how old she was. Early twenties he guessed, a life long resident of the temporary emergency.

She looked at him and through him. She had a gaze that softly penetrated. Carter recalled that she was all but empathic, quickly divining anyone's emotional state. It made sense. Her whole existence depended on understanding the state of her fellow castaways.

Carter felt a distant echo of lust as he looked at her. She was beautiful. She reminded him of the first days of the accident, when life took on the aspect of a hedonistic, wanton party.

But that was thirty five years ago, and everything gets old if you're drowning in it.

Hannah saw Carter's expression and reacted to it subtly. "Maybe, if you're nice to me." Her body language said.

Carter saw this and felt, at once old and amused. She turned instantly from a person of desire to one of the children. "What brings you down, Dear?"

Hannah relaxed ever so subtly. "George is leaving us."

Carter looked at her grimly. "Oh?"

"Yes."

Carter stood up. He'd been drinking more than he was aware of. "Let's go."

-*-

The corridors of the luxury liner were detailed and richly appointed. They walked past weapons scars from what Carter derisively referred to as "our little civil war". In the aftermath of the accident, there were three lieutenants who had equal seniority. Carter, a veteran of a short tour in Starfleet knew the value of a solid chain of command. So did many of the other passengers.

It was the details they disagreed on. In time they disagreed to the point of violence.

Now there was one Lieutenant left alive, and no one paid that much attention to him. There just wasn't that much point to it.

They passed another section of the corridor scarred by vandalism. Someone taking frustration out on the ship. The whole ship should look like this, but sometimes, out of pure boredom, people fixed things. It made them feel better about themselves and their situation.

Carter had done his own share of rehabilitation in areas of the ship ravaged by madness and boredom.

Hannah led Carter to the forward edge of the ship to a maintenance bay.

There George Halfington was finishing putting on a thruster suit.

"George." Carter said.

George looked up happily, his eyes shining with hope and energy. "I'm going for help, Carter."

"In a thruster suit?"

"Yes. I should make it." Halfington confirmed.

More than half the shuttlecraft on the Starliner California had been used up trying that. A few came back on the dregs of their fuel and energy. Many were never heard from again. The Nebula must be light years wide.

"George…" Carter said.

The man gave a hearty thumbs up "I'll be back with a Starfleet cruiser." He seated his helmet and dogged it down.

Carter weighed the effort to take Halfington down and sit on him until the madness passed. Carter looked at George. He was humming to himself. The Federation Anthem. He looked happier than he'd been in years. Carter knew that George was on his final run. He could be restrained, but never really brought back.

"Godspeed, George." Carter said.

The madman chuckled "Be right back." He stepped into the airlock.

Carter watched out the porthole as the airlock cycled and a man he'd called friend for years drifted out into the inky blackness. George oriented himself via some internal calculus and then fired his thruster pack. Shining like another star, he streaked away into the darkness.

Carter watched for a long time.

"I'm sorry," Hannah said.

Carter looked at her.

"If I'd known how bad he was I wouldn't have called you." She said.

He shook his head. "No, no. Thank you. I'm glad someone was here to see it."

Hannah looked into his soul again. "Rescue may come tomorrow. It may never come. You're alive. Here. Now."

Carter looked at her.

Then he turned towards the doorway

"Would you like to help me round up a repair crew for that section of the hallway?"

Hannah nodded gently.