Horizon

Chapter 5: Archer

Archer is thrown from the captain's chair by the force of impact. Immediately, alarms sound on the bridge. He pulls himself to his feet, mind locked in shock as a panel explodes in a shower of debris. The young officer at the forward station is tossed aside, collapsing to the deck with half his face charred black from the fire.

Archer throws off the fear and scrambles back to the com even as the only other officer on deck leaves her post to check on their fallen crewmember. She looks up at Archer as the ship shudders. Her eyes fill with terror as she shakes her head.

Archer doesn't get a chance to call for help. As he keys the com, the ship goes silent, power crashing as the Day Wanderer comes to an abrupt halt, dead in space. Despite bracing against the constant movement, Archer is again tossed to the floor.

The lieutenant sobs, her forehead bloodied by the second impact. Archer silently curses the fact it's short shift, only three of them on deck. Down to two with the loss of the other young officer, choosing to ignore his weeping shipmate. He makes for the control console while emergency power surges to life. The spinning red light makes the blood even more ghastly.

"What the hell was that?" Archer demanded of her. "Where was the warning?"

"There was nothing on the sensors, nothing!" She continues to sob, her hands clutched to her wound. "I don't know!"

Archer tries to come up with a plan, but his training didn't cover this. No one's does. Yes, of course, he's prepared for breakdowns, for emergencies. Why had his father chosen three new officers to run short shift?

Archer knew why. Because he wanted his son to have a chance to shine and feel like a real captain, with crew who respected him.

Possibly the worst timing ever.

"We need to abandon ship!" The lieutenant's fear flares beside him. Archer pushes her away, from her clutching hands and reek of terror. Training can only go so far. He sees that now, in her, in her utter loss of control.

"We need to find out what's going on," he snaps back, hoping to jar her out of her fear. Instead she spins, runs off. He hears her feet retreat, stumbling often as the ship vibrates and shudders. He doesn't have time to think about her. He's now alone. And as scared as he is, as much as he's not ready for this, not even a little bit despite passing all his simulations without incident, always successful, he can't quit.

He needs to save his father's ship.

The consoles gape empty, unresponsive. There isn't enough power. Archer slams both fists onto the last in frustration then makes a decision. Agony tears at the duty in him. But despite knowing it is the last thing he should do, he leaves the bridge unmanned in search of some answers.

He makes his way through the dark and the smoke, choking on the thick stuff that seems to be everywhere. Archer staggers as the ship pitches beneath him, frantic to reach his father.

As he rounds the last corner leading to the crew deck, he spots something up ahead in the smoke. He just makes out dangling legs over something dark moving with uncanny smoothness.

Archer's instincts take over. He races to catch up, throwing himself at the large mass, getting a grip on the legs and pulling the captive free. The weight of the body is more than he prepared for and he falls with the girl he rescued on top of him. The creature turns toward him, masked in blackness and thick smoke. All Archer can make out are its glowing green eyes as it slithers toward them.

Before he can react, a flash of weapon's fire strikes the thing and flings it backward. It squeals a high-pitched protest before disappearing into the haze.

***

Four Hours to Contact

Archer couldn't get the beautiful girl out of his mind for some reason. He even checked the manifest himself out of curiosity, scrolling names on the clear siliplex tablet, stopping at the touch of his finger. Her picture smiled back at him: Sun Chang, colonist. He widened the view with a touch, checked out her parents, both doctors, before making a note of her billet number, grinning to himself. Might be nice to have someone pretty to talk to on a voyage for a change.

Not that he had very much free time. His new duties saw to it. He barely contained his joy, only doing so by force of will and a lifetime of training, when his father approached him the night before with a uniform and a small box.

"It's time, I think," Patrick smiled at him. Archer took the shining suit without comment though he was bursting inside. "And these. Every officer needs these."

Archer's fingers traced over the silver wings, the universal symbol for pilots, whether in or out of atmosphere. Two planets below and a small ship orbiting signified him as a spacer. Archer shivered with delight at the long anticipated feel of his very own wings.

"Congratulations," Patrick said. "You passed first grade. Just heard myself this morning."

Archer felt his shoulders go back, his chest swell. He studied hard, worked even harder. He earned his place, but it was still nice to know his efforts were appreciated.

"I won't let you down, sir." He saluted his father.

Patrick laughed and hugged him. "I know you won't," his father said. "Your mother would be so proud."

Archer was just as overjoyed to be asked to join Patrick and Anita in greeting the boarding colonists. Anita didn't comment on the new uniform or the wings, but her green eyes sparkled at him.

"So was that new governor arrogant enough for you?" Anita winked at Patrick as the watched the colonists find their way.

"Grounders," Patrick said, as if that were enough. It was, for Archer. Grounders thought they owned everything, including space.

"The daughter will be a handful," Anita went on. "She has the predator in her."

"They're only with us a few weeks," Patrick said. "But put someone on her, if you would." "A female someone, I think," Anita said.

They both laughed. Archer held still, listening carefully, fascinated and more than a little proud to be included. He had never been privy to their conversations before.

"Too bad we're not a full complement," Anita went on. "Two hundred colonists are hardly worth our effort."

Archer agreed.

"We were the closest ship," Patrick said, his tone telling Archer it was an old gripe. "We do our best to serve, Anita."

"Yes, sir," she said. "Does this mean we get to survey the nebulae we stumbled on the last run out?" Anita was a fine officer, but Archer knew her science background made her a sucker for new phenomena. "I'm telling you there was something in there I couldn't identify."

Patrick snorted. "You and your alien life forms," he said. "There's nothing out there. But I think we could take a swing that way under the pretense of finding some other viable planets."

"Yes, sir," she responded with laughter in her voice.

Archer was distracted from their conversation by the beautiful girl at that point. She blushed, pink coloring her olive skin and ducked her head, sleek black hair falling to cover her eyes as she hurried after her parents. By then the last of the final group were boarded.

Patrick and Anita spun to face Archer, grinning at him. Archer wondered if he should be nervous.

"So do you think he's ready?" Patrick's green eyes danced with some secret joy. "Maybe," Anita shrugged, crossing her arms over her substantial chest, her bulky body

almost the same size as his father's. Archer had seen her bring errant spacers to their knees with just one of her big, strong hands without disturbing a hair of her tight bun. "Still wet behind the ears, but shows potential."

He refused to rise to the bait. Whatever it was, they would tell him when they were ready. Patrick took the hint from his son's stoic acceptance of their teasing and gave in.

"Report to the bridge at 21:00," he said. "Tonight, you take the conn."

Archer felt so excited he almost cracked his professional veneer. "Yes, sir," he said. Then grinned. He couldn't help himself.

Anita laughed out loud and clapped him on the shoulder, staggering him slightly. "Good lad," she said. "See you at dinner."

Archer didn't watch her leave. He focused his whole attention on his father. As Anita left, Patrick's face sobered. He motioned for Archer to walk with him. When he spoke, his deep voice pitched so low Archer had to strain to hear him.

"I need you to go find your brother," the big captain said.

Archer wanted to groan and complain, but he was an officer now. A sixteen-year-old officer, but still. His days of childishness were over and his captain had given him instructions.

"Yes, sir," he said.

Patrick sighed. "He's your brother, Archer." Sammel was a good kid, for the most part. He just... "Yes, sir," Archer said again.

"You remember the promise you made me when your mother died?" Patrick came to a halt next to the lift to the bridge.

Archer was ten, Sammel only six when Margarite passed away after a lengthy battle with illness. Patrick came to his eldest son late the night of the service and told him how important it was to take care of his brother.

"Yes, sir," Archer said. "I do my best." He hoped it didn't sound like he was complaining. His father's hand fell on his shoulder. "I know you do," Patrick said. "He's so much like her,

so impulsive and reckless. But he needs you, Archer. Now go find him and get him cleaned up, because we both know he's probably a mess. Bring him to supper tonight."

"I will," Archer said.

He waited until the doors to the lift closed on his father before venting his frustration with a heavy sigh. Jaw clenched, he went in search of his brother.

Archer loved Sammel and always took his father's request seriously. But there was something about his younger brother that drove him nuts. Sammel tried so hard, and yet he was always making a mess of things, often reflecting badly on Archer himself. Which he found doubly frustrating. The last thing he ever wanted was to let his father down and he felt like every disaster Sammel stumbled into tarnished Archer's own successes.

He knew most of the crew had issues with his brother, including Anita, and never knew what to do or say when they criticized the boy. The trouble was he agreed with them, but his loyalty to his family was so strong it tore him apart inside.

How can I love my brother so much, but be embarrassed by him at the same time?

Archer was familiar with most of Sammel's haunts, but didn't have a whole lot of time to go looking. Instead, he made a few calls on the com to various departments on the ship, coming up empty.

Trying to keep his temper in check, Archer was forced to physically search for his brother. His mind churned with anger. He didn't have time for chasing his brother all over the ship. He needed to make himself presentable for dinner, although the charitable part of him knew that required nothing more than donning his dress jacket over his immaculate uniform. Then he had to prepare for his conn duty that night. The last thing he wanted was to be chasing after Sammel to goodness knew where just so the O'Malley family could put on a good face at dinner for a bunch of colonists they'd never see again.

As luck would have it, after searching the engine room, the below decks for crew and most of the promenade levels, Archer found himself stalking the halls of the colonist's quarters. His anger rose further when he heard his brother's voice coming from a resident room. What was he doing with the grounders? Archer stomped his way to the only open door and entered without knocking.

Sammel stood in front of a very large, well-dressed man and his thin, attractive companion, his dark head hanging, shoulders slumped. But Archer recognized the tell-tale sign of his brother's fury as his fingers curled and uncurled into fists at his sides. Sammel learned not to show his rebellion on the outside, but never quite perfected the art as Archer had.

"Excuse me," Archer interrupted the man as he called Sammel names making even the older O'Malley's ears redden. "Is there a problem here?"

The man spun on Archer, red face twisted, a shout on his lips. He took in the uniform immediately and pulled his attack up short.

"This porter has ruined my prize collection of rare blown glass," he sputtered. Archer glanced at Sammel who refused to look at him.

"And how did he manage that?" Archer felt his anger transfer from his brother to the arrogant grounder. He made the connection between this man and Anita's comments about the new governor as the pompous ass spoke again.

"He dropped a bag on top of them!" The man was visibly trying not to shout, while flecks of spittle flew from his mouth. "I demand the boy be punished!"

Archer drew himself up to his full height and regarded the grounder governor with his best flat expression, one he learned from his father. He could see the man deflate in the face of it.

"May I ask why the second son of Captain O'Malley, the commander of the Day Wanderer, is serving as your porter in the first place?" Archer was pleased at the chill in his tone. "I'm sure you were informed, Mr...?"

"Governor Arthur Lamont," the man said, trying for a return to authority, but failing.

"Ah. Yes. Mr. Lamont." Archer purposely left out the man's title. He wasn't on Zandia yet.

Grounders needed to be kept in their place when on board. "I'm sure you were informed you would be required to care for yourself for the duration of the voyage? Spacer crews do not serve colonists."

Archer saw Sammel's lip twitch. The girl just looked speculative.

"I... we... you..." Lamont continued to splutter, trying to gain the upper hand again. Archer let him go on for a time, observing with curiosity, understanding his father's tactics more than ever. It was imminently satisfying. Then, he cut off the older man.

"I am First Lieutenant Archer O'Malley," he informed the now embarrassed Lamont, "and this is my brother. Now, if you will excuse us, Captain O'Malley requires our attention."

Archer spun on his heel with the precision drilled into him and strode from the room. He heard the shuffle of feet behind him and knew Sammel followed. He continued to walk, long legs eating up distance for a full minute before spinning and facing his brother.

Sammel, rather than looking grateful, seemed sullen. "Thanks," he whispered.

Archer wanted to shake him and shake him until he found some sense. Instead, he flashed his anger to the only person he could, letting Sammel see just how furious he was before building his wall of civility again and taking a deep breath.

"Dad wants you at dinner," he said, voice low and controlled. He didn't want to yell at the boy in public after all. "Get yourself cleaned up and get to the dining room. You have fifteen minutes."

Archer spun and strode off, making it three steps before turning to look at his brother again.

Sammel hadn't moved.

"I'm done taking care of you," Archer said. "No more babysitter. From now on, you're on your own."

And Dad's promise be damned, Archer thought.

***