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.
“Um… Captain,” Lt. Lee woofed hesitantly. “You do realize that the… uh… intergalactic spaceship is in the wrong direction from us. Away from home. And traveling farther away every minute.” The young Papillon might be out of his depth, but he knew what he was clinging to. Home. He wanted The Wanderlust to make it home. Fast and soon.
Captain Carroway’s ears skewed in irritation. Couldn’t the bright little dog see that their best bet of getting home lay with getting more information about this sector of the universe as quickly as possible, not with setting a straight course across a potentially dangerous and hostile galaxy without forethought or planning? And yet, getting home would be the driving force behind most of the officers on The Wanderlust.
The Anti-Ra officers were fighting for their home before this day began. They’d want to get back to it as fast as possible, like Lt. Lee. Her friend, Lt. Cmdr. Vossie, might be in the same boat as the Norwegian Forest cat when it came to the Tri-Galactic Union having decided they were better off discarded, but he’d want to get back to his people as fast as possible anyway — they would be able to provide a replacement implant for him (since his previous implant seemed to belong to Mike now) and the skills necessary to insert it in his brow.
The only officers here who might sympathize with Captain Carroway’s preference for exploring the galaxy they’d been flung to rather than hurrying home as fast as possible were Ensign Melbourne who was getting a very good deal out of this and Mike who… well, who knows what a sentient hybrid mushroom-AI being really wants from life? But the Tri-Galactic Union’s core principles focused on exploration and discovery, so Captain Carroway was betting that Mike’s personality was built around valuing those things too.
Regardless of her own excitement about the possibilities out here, though, Captain Carroway was a captain first. That meant she was responsible for the lives and needs of her crew. And their lives were back in the Milky Way. They needed her to take them home.
“How long would it take us to catch up to the intergalactic spaceship?” Captain Carroway asked. Even if it was in the wrong direction, she still believed that starting this journey on the right paw — with useful, local information — would save time in the long run.
“Most of a day,” Lt. Lee woofed.
“And how long will it take us to fly to the nearest star in the Tetra Galaxy, on a direct line back toward the Milky Way?” Captain Carroway asked for comparison.
“Several days,” Lt. Lee woofed. “But if this intergalactic spaceship came from the Tetra Galaxy, then wouldn’t we find evidence of the society it came from there anyway?”
“Not every star has inhabitable planets around it,” Captain Carroway mused. “Especially this far out on the fringes of a spiral galaxy. It could take us a long time to run into another ship or outpost out here, and our ship isn’t properly stocked for a mission as long as we’re facing. The people inside that living spaceship should be properly stocked for a whole trip across the dead space between galaxies, if they’re heading away from the closest galaxy. They should have enough to spare, or at least, they should be able to point us in the right direction for a flight plan through their galaxy where we can stop and restock our supplies whenever we need to.”
Captain Carroway wasn’t sure if she was looking for her crew to speak up in support of her plan, or if she was just thinking out loud at this point. She wasn’t used to having this level of power over everyone around her. Being captain was a whole new experience, and she really hadn’t been given time to get used to it yet.
Before Captain Carroway could get herself too confused about the conflict between what she believed was the right course for her ship and what her crew probably wanted to do right now, Commander Chestnut stepped forward from where he’d been lurking at the back of the bridge. The golden-mantled squirrel said, “My ship, The Last Chance, could provide us with trading opportunities. We don’t need two ships, and if The Last Chance were stripped down for parts, I think it could provide quite valuable.”
Captain Carroway’s green eyes smiled. Her first officer was backing her up. Not only did his words imply that he believed she was right to turn The Wanderlust around and chase after the turtle-shaped vessel, they also showed his complete commitment to the blending of their crews for the sake of getting home.
“Thank you, Commander Chestnut,” Captain Carroway purred. “That’s a helpful suggestion. Now, Lt. Lee, lay in a course to overtake that intergalactic vessel.”
The Papillon nodded grimly and laid in the course. The Wanderlust began flying directly away from home.
Now that a course was set, uniforms were synthesized in the right sizes, and everything was nominally under control for the first time since Captain Carroway herself had been promoted, the Norwegian Forest cat took a minute to disappear away to her own quarters.
Only a day ago, Captain Carroway had thought it an idiosyncratic extravagance that the captain of a ship this small would get her own private quarters while most of the officers had to share a barracks room. But now she understood why. The pressures of always being on, always being in charge, always having everyone look to you to set the tone for the ship… It was a lot. She needed a moment of solitude to collect herself without the fear that any of her officers would read the exhaustion in her posture or the uncertainty in her eyes. She needed to be able to take a break from being captain, and that wouldn’t be possible — not at all — without a private room.
Captaining a ship with a crew this small felt like constantly juggling. Every officer had to be busy at every moment, or else there was no way they could accomplish all the things that needed accomplishing. Even sleep, meals, and recreation — which would be necessary to maintain the crew’s sanity — would have to be carefully balanced against other officers being on the bridge, staying on alert and in control of the vessel at all times. And Captain Carroway would need to make sure all the officers kept churning through their different needs — work, sleep, meals, and fun — without there ever being dangerous gaps. She would be juggling for the rest of this mission, and she had no idea how long this mission would last.
Hopefully the juggling would get easier, smoother, and more automatic with practice. Today? Today it took constant effort and attention, and even the few minutes that the Norwegian Forest cat was stealing for herself right now felt like a cost she couldn’t necessarily afford to spend.
Once the Norwegian Forest cat had collected herself as much as possible — she still felt close to having a panic attack just from the weight of it all — she forged her way back out into the chaos and announced it was time for the promotion ceremony.
The ceremony was held on the bridge with the strange turtle-like silhouette on the viewscreen behind them as it happened. All of the officers of The Wanderlust — except for Carroway and Vossie, who were the only ones not receiving promotions — lined up in a row, and Captain Carroway walked from one to the next, pinning their rank insignia onto their collars while saying a few words of congratulations.
Lt. Lee looked like he was bravely trying to enjoy his promotion, in spite of it not happening in a way he could have ever expected. The Papillon’s butterfly ears continued with their flicking up and flattening down, back and forth flickering that had started earlier. Captain Carroway would need to find a way to check in with him individually soon, just to make sure he was doing okay… or if he wasn’t — which was more likely — to help talk him through adjusting to the bizarre changes happening in his life. The Wanderlust could really use an onboard counselor, Captain Carroway mused.
Ensign Melbourne preened as Captain Carroway attached the pin to his collar. The white tomcat’s narrow breast puffed up, and his whiskers turned up in a genuine smile. He was doing okay.
Ensign Diaz rolled her eyes when Captain Carroway got to her, and the feathers around Ensign Risqua’s scaly face puffed out in a way that clearly implied some sort of emotional response to her new rank pin — but for the life of her, Captain Carroway had no idea what it meant when an Avioran’s feathers puffed out like that. Werik’s response was so stoic that Captain Carroway would have sworn he had an implant in his brow to help him control his emotions, except that he obviously didn’t. His rabbit-like brow was completely clear of computer implants.
On the subject of computer implants, though, Mike’s slit-like eyes on the underside of their pinkish mushroom-cap head blinked rapidly as Captain Carroway attached the rank pin to their collar, pushing the strands of mycelial fibers that looked like a bushy beard aside as she did. The beard was no longer connected to the computer console, meaning Mike was now completely ambulatory. Though, they were still in direct communication with The Wanderlust’s shipboard computer through the wireless abilities of the computer implant deeply embedded inside them.
The fungal officer did indeed look terribly funny in a Tri-Galactic Union uniform, as Captain Carroway had expected. The exhausted Norwegian Forest cat had a hard time not smirking with laughter at them. It didn’t help that Ensigns Risqua and Diaz were insubordinately whispering to each other and giggling the whole time.
Finally, Captain Carroway came to Commander Chestnut. The Norwegian Forest cat had to lean down to attach the rank pin to the golden-mantled squirrel’s collar. By this point the whole ceremony was feeling so ridiculous to Captain Carroway that she was halfway ready to throw the squirrel’s rank pin on the floor, stalk back to her private quarters, and refuse to come out for days. But that wouldn’t help anything. Everything would get worse if she did that. The only way forward here was to continue taking the course she’d laid out for herself, even if half her crew thought she was a joke. Cats don’t handle feeling like they’re jokes well. Regardless, she needed to induct these largely-unwilling Anti-Ra officers into her puppet version of a Tri-Galactic Union ship and stubbornly continue believing in the union’s principles until some of it started to rub off on them.
Fortunately, Commander Chestnut’s tiny chest puffed out with pride, and his dark eyes glittered as Captain Carroway finished attaching the pin to his collar. “Thank you,” he chittered, before the Norwegian Forest cat could muster any more increasingly half-hearted words of congratulations. “It’s an honor to be a part of your crew.”
“Thank you,” Captain Carroway meowed in return. “It’s an honor to have you.” And she meant it.
Ensign Diaz snorted, but Captain Carroway decided to ignore the canine’s insolence for now. The first officer of The Wanderlust was setting a good example. Let the canine scorn it. Diaz would come around eventually. She had to. Captain Carroway would manage to win her over. It just might take a little time.
Overall, it was a simple ceremony, but there were refreshments and a few decorations waiting for everyone in the multi-purpose room, as Captain Carroway had discussed with Commander Chestnut and Ensign Diaz earlier. The decorations and refreshments doubled as being for the memorial services for Maple and Wilder.
Officers rotated in and out of the multi-purpose room, snacking and sharing stories about the Anti-Ra officers who’d died, always making sure that someone was aboard the bridge to monitor their approach to the turtle-shaped intergalactic spaceship which kept growing slowly larger and clearer on the viewscreen.
In addition to the snacks and streamers that Ensign Diaz had synthesized and placed around the multi-purpose room, the canine had also synthesized a few craft supplies, and everyone — Anti-Ra or not — made tiny ornaments to hang on the branches of Maple’s spirit tree in celebration of the deceased squirrel’s life.
Captain Carroway felt very strange folding together an origami acorn out of a marbleized square of chartreuse paper to celebrate the life of a squirrel who she’d essentially killed. Maybe not with her own paw, but with her choices. Even so, it seemed the right thing to do. The tiny pine tree looked beautiful with all the small, thoughtful decorations hung on it, and Ensign Risqua was clearly touched by each one that another officer hung.
Even Ensign Mike made an ornament for Maple’s spirit tree. Though, the fungal officer didn’t use any of the craft supplies Ensign Diaz had set out. They grew the ornament themself from their own tangled beard of mycelial fibers. When they plucked it from their beard, it was a small white orb of delicate filaments. Oddly beautiful, and beautifully odd. It must be strange for Mike, living their first hours of life as an embodied being by being promoted to ensign and attending a funeral for strangers.
The other deceased Anti-Ra officer, Wilder, had been a Lupinian man, so he didn’t have a spirit tree for everyone to decorate in his honor. According to Commander Chestnut, Lupinians generally celebrated their lost loved ones with a communal feral howl at the next full moon.
As there were no moons nearby — and wouldn’t be for some time — Ensign Mike offered to use the shipboard lumo-projectors to cast a hologram of a full moon over the ceiling of the multi-purpose room. The fungal officer turned the room’s lights down low, and then they summoned a replica of Lupinia’s bright red desert moon above them all.
Everyone threw their heads back and howled at the moon along with Ensign Diaz — cats, rabbit-like aliens, reptile-bird, squirrel, and mushroom. Even Lt. Lee who happened to be taking his turn on the bridge at that moment howled along; the Papillon’s high pitched howl carried down The Wanderlust’s central corridor to join in the cacophonous howling of the others.
Howls died off one by one as officers ran out of breath, until only Ensign Diaz’s voice still rose like a primal cry of pain, echoing throughout the ship. Eventually, the canine woman ran out of breath too, and her howl choked off into a sob. When she raised her head again, the short brown fur on her face was matted with the wetness of her tears, but her eyes looked clearer. Some of her pain had been spent in tribute to her lost friend, and she hadn’t had to mourn him alone. The whole ship had howled along with her, even the strange new mushroom person whose voice sounded like wet leaves falling on the soggy loam of a forest floor.
Continue on to Chapter 14…