Sammel sulks in a cubby in the back of the engine room. It's not his fault bad things happen around him, nor that he has such big shoes to fill. His brother Archer is so perfect, he wishes he could just disappear sometimes so his father and brother wouldn't have to worry about Sammel embarrassing them ever again.
He is shaken from his dark thoughts by a sharp lurch as the ship bucks. Sammel leaps down from his perch and investigates, almost colliding his thin, young body with a bulkhead when the ship shudders and crashes into something. The lights die, the emergency flashers coming online, filling the air with strobing fear. A moment later, the alarm follows. Sammel starts to run.
He reaches the front compartment of the engine room before he realizes there isn't anyone around. But wait. Where is the crew? He can only imagine they have been told to abandon ship and his heart drops to his feet. He must have missed the call and now they are all gone without
him. Sammel races for the main door, leaping through and into the corridor on his way to the escape pod bay. He is halfway down the hall, almost to the outer hull, when he sees a huge, red glow appear on the wall. His feet stutter to a halt, eyes locked on the sight, body frozen and open-mouthed, as the hull slags, melting to the thin carpet on the deck. When it is gone, he can see only blackness beyond as the corridor floods with smoke.
Something emerges from the hole, oozing its way into the Day Wanderer. Sammel feels his terror build as it moves toward him.
Frozen in fear, he doesn't even have the will to scream.
***
Six Hours to Contact
Sammel would have liked to stand with his father and brother as they greeted the new colonists. In fact, nothing would have made him prouder than to be dressed in one of those shining white uniforms, arms folded behind his back.
He sighed and sagged against the bulkhead on the far side of the promenade, knowing such a wish was only fantasy. Sammel brushed his dark hair from his forehead and tried to suppress the old jealousy rising when he caught his father smiling at Archer. Sammel knew his brother was the favorite, knew he could never be as good or fast or smart or strong as him. Knew he would never be anything but a screw up when everything came so easily to Archer.
According to his perfect brother, it was only because Sammel tried too hard. He did his best to stay out of the way, to learn what he needed to know about the ship and the crew and the rules. He spent his whole twelve years on the Day Wanderer. It was his life, but it never quite felt like home.
Sammel flinched a little as he turned and walked away from the chummy pair his father and brother made, matching blonde, handsome spacers in full control, admired by all. He tried not to let his last failure get him any further down than he already was.
"He's a menace!" Second in command, Anita Shore clipped at Patrick just hours before the Day Wanderer docked over Earth. "Had the chief not seen him messing with the engine housing..." She glared down at Sammel who did his best to keep quiet. He knew from
experience no matter what he tried to say no one would listen. "The chief says the engine would be slagged."
"What were you thinking?" Patrick addressed him in Captain O'Malley mode while Archer did his best not to look at Sammel at all, face a mask.
Sammel swore he wouldn't open his mouth on the long march to his father's office. Swore he would just take the punishment and not try to explain. But facing the two people in the world who he wanted most to impress, his mouth got away with him.
"The flow rate was off." He stumbled over his words as he tried to get them out as fast as possible before they could stop him, in a rush to get them to listen. "The valves were out of sync and they needed to be realigned, but no one would do anything, so I tried to do it myself." He knew the moment he stopped his father wasn't in the mood for one of his explanations.
Patrick raised an eyebrow at XO Shore. She shook her head. "Not according to the chief," she said.
Sammel went rigid. And yet, he had seen the chief checking the flow himself, calling for a tech while Anita dragged him away from engineering.
It just wasn't fair.
Sammel pushed the rest of the meeting from his mind. He didn't need to replay the hard look on his father's face, the disappointment in Archer's. They were far too familiar to him, an old source of pain and self-hate he'd sunk so far in he didn't know how to get out.
And yet... he was right, he knew he was right and with a few more minutes he would have proven it to them. Just once, he wanted the chance to show them he wasn't a screw up after all. He resisted for a full two days the call of the engine, hearing the flow rate get worse and worse, wondering why no one else noticed. Sammel did his best not to pay attention, to do his chores and stay out of trouble and earn his family's respect.
But he couldn't take it any longer. He finally went to the chief who brushed him off as a stupid kid no matter who his father was. And when the pressure was just too much, Sammel acted, not out of spite or decision, but because he couldn't help himself.
He slid his way deeper into the ship, head down, balled fists contained in his pockets. He was so wrapped up in his own misery he failed to notice he strode on a collision course until it was too late.
He tripped and fell over the luggage of a young woman who stared down at him like a piece of offensive dirt.
Not far off, he thought.
"How dare you?" She snapped. The man she was with looked appalled, eyes widening in offense, thick lips pursed.
"Young man," he clipped crisply, "how rude. Be more careful."
"Bad enough I have to carry my own luggage," the girl snarled at him, "and you, too, Daddy, but to be assaulted," she aimed a kick at Sammel with her expensive high-heeled shoe, "is more than I can bear!"
Sammel tried not to roll his eyes as he dodged her toe and climbed to his feet.
Grounders, he thought. Why are they always such trouble?
"Sorry," he muttered, trying to squeeze past them. But the man caught his arm and wouldn't let him go.
"You will take our bags to our quarters," he ordered with so much authority Sammel caved immediately, "after you offer a sincere apology to my daughter."
Sammel wanted to scream, to tell them off. The big man glared at him, wide face very red, chest puffed out in offence. The girl smirked secretly, her green eyes full of nasty plans for Sammel's future torment. He could almost see the wheels turning in her head and would have told her off if it was just her. But faced with her father, obviously someone of importance, and not wanting to make Patrick angry again, Sammel did as he was told.
"I'm very sorry I tripped over your luggage," he said in a clear voice, finishing with, but if you hadn't gotten in my way in the first place it would never happened, in his head.
At least it made him feel a little better.
The man grunted while the girl scowled at him.
"That will do, I suppose. Now, the baggage, double time!"
The pair strode away, leaving him to tug two wide floaters down the narrow hall after them. Thankfully, they were given the anti-grav platforms to use or he would have been forever getting their stuff to their rooms.
"I don't know how I'm supposed to feel safe on this ship, Daddy," the girl whined. "We're set loose here with all the rabble. How is that in keeping with your station?"
"We're colonists, now, dear," the man told her. "Just folks."
"Not me," she snapped back. "Not ever. This is entirely unacceptable and I expect you to do something about it." She shot a glare over her shoulder at Sammel. "Keep up, can't you, boy?" She turned back to her father. "I can't believe I'm living in these conditions."
"Yes, darling," her father sighed.
The only thing keeping Sammel going that long and torturous journey to the guest suite was imagining over and over how fun it would be to push the nasty witch into an airlock and show her the door.
***