by Mary E. Lowd
An excerpt from Voyage of the Wanderlust. If you’d prefer, you can start with Chapter 1, return to the previous chapter, or skip ahead.
Lt. Diaz didn’t schedule a counseling session with Ensign Mike, and she did manage to — mostly — avoid Captain Carroway as the Wanderlust flew toward the intriguingly flickering hyperspatial slipstream. The strange reading turned out to be coming from a binary star system with a dozen or so planets orbiting the larger of the two stars.
Unfortunately, before the Wanderlust came close enough to the binary star system to pinpoint the hyperspatial slipstream’s exact location, the reading fizzled out. Entirely. No more flickering. Just gone.
No one aboard the Wanderlust seemed to know how to react to the change in circumstances. It had never been clear whether the hyperspatial slipstream was a scientific curiosity or a potential aide in their journey home, so it wasn’t clear exactly what they’d lost when it disappeared without a trace.
Waiting for the rest of the crew to react and realizing that she didn’t know how to react herself if they didn’t react first allowed Lt. Diaz to uncover a rare, uncomfortable insight into her own state. She was in such a chaotic place emotionally that she didn’t know whether to be excited, disappointed, scornful, or unaffected by an actual occurrence in her world without clearly displayed emotions from the people around her for the Xolo-Lupinian to position herself to in contrast.
If Captain Carroway had been disappointed by the hyperspatial slipstream disappearing, then Lt. Diaz could have been scornful of her. If Captain Carroway were excited about what scientific insights they might gain by studying a location where a hyperspatial slipstream had just disappeared, then Lt. Diaz could have been loudly heartbroken about it being gone. But the feline captain had learned to hold her cards close, emotionally speaking. Rising through the ranks in the Tri-Galactic Union, Captain Carroway had been afforded plenty of opportunities to see how letting dogs read her emotions too clearly was simply a recipe for having them used against her. And when it came down to it, in spite of her Lupinian side, Lt. Diaz was basically just another dog. At least, from Captain Carroway’s point of view.
The officer who actually had the clearest, strongest emotional reaction to the discovery and then loss of the reading leading them toward a hyperspatial slipstream was Lt. Barry Lee. The small, pretty Papillon had been an exemplary officer — worth three others — back before this mission, which was sadly how he’d ended up here. Captain Carroway had known she was being sent on a suicide mission, so she’d fired everyone from the Wanderlust that she could before leaving, and keeping Lt. Lee had meant she could save more lives. If she’d fired Lt. Lee, she’d have had to bring along extra officers to replace his expertise.
His own greatness had bit him in the tail. And it was such a pretty little puff of a tail — the long white and brownish-red fur of it fell like a fountain behind him. It had barely wagged once since the Wanderlust had rescued Lupinia, leaving them all stranded in the Tetra Galaxy. Like Lt. Diaz, Lt. Lee wanted nothing more than to get home, and he couldn’t concentrate on much else.
But when he’d heard about the hyperspatial slipstream, his tail had started tentatively wagging again. His butterfly-like ears had started standing taller. And all of his research had turned in that direction. He was hell-bent on finding a way to use that hyperspatial slipstream to get home, and when the signal disappeared, Lt. Lee had fallen into the worst depressive slump any of the rest of the crew had ever seen.
The perfect officer who annoyed other officers by always being punctual, always having a crisp uniform, always being helpful, cheerful, and ready for whatever the Tri-Galactic Union might throw at him… stopped getting out of bed. Stopped brushing out the long fur of his ears and tail allowing himself to turn into a tangled, greasy mess. And finally stopped even talking.
Lt. Diaz was frustrated with the Wanderlust’s situation, but she knew she didn’t want to turn into that kind of a mess. Fortunately, it helped that Xolos have very short fur, and she’d inherited that particular trait from her father. Even so, it was one thing to let days of her life slip uselessly through her claws out here, and it was quite another thing to wallow in her own misery like some pre-uplift animal rolling in the mud. She had Lupinian pride. She wasn’t going to be some coddled pet like Lt. Lee whose heart broke because Master forgot to feed him a treat.
“You know, we might still find the slippery-stream-thingy when we get there,” Ensign Melbourne meowed at the despondent dog for about the millionth time, causing Lt. Diaz to wish for about the millionth time that she’d been allowed to bunk in the barracks room with Risqua and the Morphicans instead of in here.
The barracks rooms were large enough that all of them could have shared one together, since both the captain and first officer got their own private rooms. It was clearly just cattiness on the captain’s part that had specifically separated Lt. Diaz from either of her Anti-Ra friends.
And yet that hypocritical, scheming cat claimed to want to be her friend. Such a liar. Friends don’t isolate you from the people you actually care about.
Lt. Lee moaned, his head still under his pillow, blanket pulled up over his head. Ensign Melbourne was sitting on the foot of his bed, sketching him.
Lt. Diaz didn’t know why the white tomcat kept trying to cheer the Papillon up. It hadn’t worked the previous hundred times. All she could figure was that the tomcat must have a crush on the little dog. Or maybe he was just bored. Or maybe… he disliked Lt. Lee radiating sadness inside their barracks as much as she did. Who knows why cats do anything?
Lt. Diaz had noticed that Lys had spent as little time as possible in their barracks ever since Lt. Lee’s depressive crash. The caterpillar seemed to be particularly sensitive to others’ emotions.
“Also, I’ve heard that one of the planets in this system has life signs on it — limited plants and fish and the like!” Ensign Melbourne shoved the blanket-covered lump, eliciting another moan. “Fish! You hear that? I could teach you how to fish, and maybe we’d get some decent grub around here for a while!”
Lt. Diaz snorted. The white tomcat was so transparently uninterested in ever getting home to the Milky Way. He’d been locked in a penal colony there. Here he was allowed to pilot the ship, sleep in a comfortable barracks, spend all his free time drawing silly little cartoons, and even visit the occasional alien world to help gather supplies.
“You could at least pretend like you understand why those of us who left lives behind in the Milky Way want to get home,” Lt. Diaz woofed scornfully. “You know, if you want to make Lt. Lee feel better, your chances are better if you can at least show a little empathy instead of always strutting around like King of the Tetra Galaxy.”
Lt. Diaz realized her mistake as soon as the words left her muzzle, and Ensign Melbourne’s face twisted into a delighted grin. He immediately cleared the screen on his computer pad and started sketching himself with a crown, scepter, and spiral galaxy swirling around his midsection.
“King of the Tetra Galaxy!” Lt. Melbourne announced proudly, displaying the sketch for her.
Lt. Lee even peeked his cute little snout out from under his pillows long enough to catch a glimpse of the cartoon, and in spite of himself, the Papillon snickered. “You do kind of act like you don’t want to leave here,” he woofed softly after pulling the pillow back over his head, causing the words to sound muffled.
“Well, I don’t,” Ensign Melbourne admitted. “I’m having a fine time exploring this galaxy, and I don’t know what awaits me back in the Milky Way. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about my friends when they’re sad.”
“Are we friends?” Lt. Lee woofed, sounding like he really cared.
Lt. Diaz could not imagine why that foolish little dog would care what this lazy, idiotic, criminal of a cat thought about him.
“Oh, come on,” the Xolo-Lupinian barked. “Have some pride for the full moon’s sake! You’re some kind of elite Tri-Galactic Union officer who’s apparently worth three other officers, and this cat was pulled out of prison to be here. Why would you even want to be his friend? Or anyone’s on this vessel? The Tri-Galactic Union threw you away, and those of us from the Last Chance were your enemies. I don’t know why you even talk to any of us other than Lys and Korvax. At least they’re vaguely neutral in all of this.”
Lt. Diaz’s tirade sparked something inside Lt. Lee, and the small Papillon finally sat up, shoving his pillow aside and letting his blanket fall to the floor.
“The Tri-Galactic Union may have thrown me away, as you say,” Lt. Lee barked, his voice much smaller and less resonant than Lt. Diaz’s was when she barked. “But everyone aboard this vessel has suffered the same fate and done their absolute best to keep us alive and moving back toward home.” His counter-tirade dwindled down to a sad whimper, and his brown eyes were bright with unshed tears. Or maybe defiance. He seemed to have more mettle than Lt. Diaz had given him credit for.
The little Papillon man sat on his bunk, quivering with some sort of rage. He was such a small dog with such small dog energy. It was really hard for Lt. Diaz to take him seriously.
“If you have so much respect for the rest of the officers on this vessel,” Lt. Diaz woofed with as much derision as she could, “then how can you burden them so much with this–” Her lip curled, twisting her muzzle into a sneer. “–pathetic display.”
Lt. Lee’s eyes, still bright with tears or anger, lifted enough to stare directly across the barracks at the larger canine trying to cow him with her aggression, and he woofed back, softly, “If you despise them all so much, then how come you’d endanger the one thing you and I can agree on — that we both want to get back — by entrusting the safety of your return voyage to a bunch of fools?”
“What do you mean?” Lt. Diaz sputtered, bat-like ears splaying in confusion.
“I mean,” Lt. Lee barked, looking like he’d finally found himself some solid ground to stand on in this argument, “that if we’re all the fools you think we are, and you’re so dependent on us all for keeping this ship running, then I’d expect you to take monitoring the mission and how everyone is handling it a lot more seriously.”
Lt. Diaz’s eyes narrowed, trying to grapple with the Papillon’s surprisingly salient point. Considering how little she trusted Captain Carroway, Lt. Diaz had been taking a foolishly paws-off approach to letting the Norwegian Forest cat handle this mission. She’d been riding along, blithely trusting a cat who she didn’t trust to make all the decisions behind a journey that would decide if she made it back to her homeworld before her parents died of old age, whether she made it back in time to meet her brother’s children when he and his wife got around to having a litter of their own… Whether she’d ever make it home to see Lupinia again at all.
Lt. Diaz hadn’t expected Lt. Lee to say something so cogent. Emotionally, it kind of knocked her flat.
“You know, I’m your friend too,” Ensign Melbourne meowed at the flabbergasted Xolo-Lupinian.
Why did all these cats want to be friends with her?
It’s not like cats were famously known for being friendly. Though, Lt. Diaz supposed they were known for being difficult and contrary. So, trying to be friends with her while she obviously scorned them might be right on the mark.
Lt. Diaz would have to think about how she could do better. “You’re right,” she barked. “I don’t have faith in Captain Carroway, the Tri-Galactic Union, or any of you, and I don’t want to be friends. But I should be doing a better job of living up to my principles. I don’t know what that means yet, but I’m going to figure it out.”
The Papillon and white tomcat stared at the Xolo-Lupinian, unsure what to make of her proclamation. But standing in the open doorway to their barracks — Lt. Diaz must not have noticed the door sliding open — was Ensign Risqua who nodded like she’d just heard everything she needed to know. The reptile-bird said to the Xolo-Lupinian — pointedly ignoring the small dog and cat: “Just because we’re all stuck on a ship together doesn’t mean we all need to be friends, does it?”
“No, it doesn’t,” Lt. Diaz agreed sharply. Then her voice turned warm, and she added to the reptile-bird, “But you’re my friend. Is there anything I can do for you?”
“Not right now,” Ensign Risqua squawked. “But I thought you’d like to know we’re orbiting that planet now, and I think things are about to get interesting.”
Continue on to Chapter 5…