One Good Deed

“Have we got a navigation solution, Chip?” The pilot rushed through his pre-flight checks.

“Affirmative. I am unable to activate, however. I apologize, Stefan.”

“I understand. Manual entry and activation.”

“Attention, cargo vessel Uragon: you are to immediately power down your warp generator until you reach minimum clearance distance of one-hundred-thirty thousand kilometers.”

“Sorry, no time to talk.” He switched off the comm. As soon as his warp generator spooled up, he tapped the console, shooting off at maximum speed.

“Okay, Chip. You can take over now without violating any regs.”

“Navigation control regained. We will break super-C in three hours, twenty-seven minutes.”

“I hope we get there in time.” Stefan released the harness holding him in the pilot’s chair and stood to stretch.

“It is possible that the Defense Force may get an escort there before us,” Chip said, its voice neither masculine nor feminine. Like all navigation AIs, Chip’s voice was designed to be unmistakable and easily understood.

“Just because a thing is possible, doesn’t make it probable,” Stefan replied. “If a carrier is going to get there first, they need to leave the system in the next thirty minutes. I don’t see it happening.”

“I agree with your assessment,” Chip said, “as the only escort in system was in dock for fueling and provisions.”

“My husband’s going to kill me when we get back, though.”

“Should I prepare a message to have police protection when we return?”

“I didn’t mean literally, Chip. It’s a figure of speech,” Stefan said as he walked through the ship to the cargo area. “It means he’s going to be angry with me.”

“Are you planning on bringing them aboard when you get there?”

“Not unless their ship is fatally compromised. There’s no room in the hold for even a small shuttle.” He began moving the cargo around to get at the oxygen he was meant to deliver. “I just want to buy them some time.”

“Are you going to give the oxygen to them?”

“As much as they need, until the escort gets there.”

“And this is why your husband will be angry?”

“It’ll hurt our finances, sure,” he said, “but I think the fine for breaking the minimum warp distance will be big thing. I might even lose my license over it.”

“Your record is clean up to today. According to Federation law, you will be given a warning, and your license will be revoked if you get another violation in the next eighteen months.”

“Thanks for clearing that up, Chip.” Stefan stacked the oxygen in the airlock. “It also depends on the judge, though. I was less than a thousand kilometers from the station when I warped. They might take that as reckless.”

“Prepare for exit from super-C, twelve minutes and counting.”

Stefan made his way back to the pilot’s chair and strapped himself in. He keyed in the commands to start all the scanners and held his hand above the console. As the dull grey of super-C flashed bright white and returned to the view of normal space, he tapped the console to activate the scanners.

“Thirteen-hundred-forty-one kilometers, heading one-three-zero by seven-four by one-six-point-one,” Chip said. “Course laid in.”

“Maximum sub-light, full burn with mid-flight flip.”

“Engaging. High-gee maneuvers, Stefan.”

Stefan nodded, as extensions from the seat wrapped around his legs, squeezing them tight. He forced his breath while it felt like an elephant sat on his chest. The gravity plating was not of the sort that the military used, so it couldn’t do much for the nine gravities he was subjecting himself to.

At the halfway point, he took big gulps of air and prepared to repeat the procedure for the slow-down portion of the trip. The ship went into full burn again to slow down. Tunnel-vision told him he was close to passing out.

When he thought he wouldn’t be able to take it any longer, it ended as with a sudden moment of weightlessness before the gravity plating returned the ship to one gee.

Without wasting any time, Stefan unbuckled and ran for the airlock. “Hail them and dock, Chip.”

“Affirmative. I have positive hail from the Timbe, four people, all unconscious. Airlock docked.”

Stefan cycled the airlock and watched as the outer door of the other ship opened at the other end of the short tunnel. The air that poured out from the crippled ship set off his CO2 alarm.

 “Chip, where is their oxygen connect?”

“Three meters to the right of the inner airlock door.”

Stefan connected one of the oxygen canisters, and opened another wide. “Not the best way, but the quickest to get some oxygen in here. Timbe AI, where are the crew?”

“They are on the bridge,” the Timbe’s AI responded.

Carrying one of the tanks of oxygen, Stefan followed the signs to the bridge. Once there, he opened the oxygen canister and removed their emergency oxygen masks. As they came around, he made sure they were aware of what was happening and then returned to change out more of their oxygen tanks.

The FDF escort vessel Bright Harbor arrived more than three hours later. It was like a space-faring port, capable of docking a large ship and warping to a destination with that ship attached. Stefan returned to his ship and undocked so the escort could lock the Tembe into its docking port.

“No good deed…. I’ll probably be arrested when we get back,” he said.

“The law is clear,” Chip said, “that it would be a fine.”

“Unless they want to call it reckless endangerment.”

Stefan returned to the station at a more leisurely pace, arriving after five hours in super-C. He made sure to exit well outside the warp exclusion limit and hail the station for docking. As expected, he was arrested as soon as he docked and stepped off the ship.

After two days in a cell, he was brought before a judge. He had a public defender there he hadn’t yet met, and across from her sat the Federation prosecuting attorney. The four crew from the Tembe were present, along with the executive officer from the Bright Harbor. A woman he couldn’t identify, dressed in an obviously expensive suit, sat with them in the area reserved for witnesses.

“Prisoner Stefan Inholt, you are charged with the following crimes. Ignoring minimum safe distance for warp with reckless endangerment, first class. Maximum sentence: two years and revocation of your piloting license for life. Theft of goods in transit, aggravated second class. Maximum sentence: one year. Prosecution, you may make your case.”

The prosecutor rose, and looked at Stefan, where he stood in the block, before looking back to the judge. “Your honor, prosecution would like to drop the charge for ignoring minimum safe distance for warp. The Tembe sent a distress call from a distance of thirty-one light hours, with only thirty-three hours of oxygen left on board. The extra hour it would have taken the accused to get to minimum safe distance would have resulted the death of the crew.”

The judge looked to the defense attorney for their nod of approval and banged her gavel. “Removed: ignoring safe minimum distance with reckless endangerment, first class. Moving on to theft of goods in transit, aggravated second class.”

“Prosecution calls Maria Obele, the client for whom the goods were being delivered.”

“I remind you that you are under oath to speak only the truth to the court,” the judge said.

Maria stood and cleared her throat. “Your honor, had I known the circumstances, I would not have lodged a complaint.”

The prosecutor raised a hand. “Citizen Obele, what was the value of the goods missing from your delivery?”

“About a hundred credits. But, as I already stated, had I known the circumstances—”

“Citizen Obele,” the prosecutor cut in, “did you or did you not lose cargo in transit?”

“Objection,” the defense attorney said. “If the aggrieved wishes to remove the charges, they should be allowed.”

One of the crew of the Tembe stood. “Your honor, I know this is irregular, but my crew and I are willing to pay for the oxygen that Citizen Inholt used to save our lives.”

The judge pounded her gavel. “You have not been called upon to speak yet. Maria Obele, do you wish to drop the charge of theft of goods in transit, aggravated second class?”

“Yes, your honor, I do.” She turned toward the Tembe crew seated next to her and smiled. “And I do not seek remuneration.”

“Prosecutor, the aggrieved has stated their desire to remove the charge of theft of goods in transit, aggravated second class.”

The prosecutor frowned. “Prosecution drops the charge of theft of goods in transit, aggravated second class.”

“No further charges. Citizen Stefan Inholt, you are free to go. This session is adjourned.” The judge banged her gavel and Stefan was led out of the block and released into the station.

Stefan walked onto his ship. “Hey, Chip, I’m back.”

“Welcome, Stefan. Have you been fined?”

“Nope, it seems that maybe…sometimes, at least one good deed does go unpunished.”

“Why would a good deed be punished in the first place?”

“It’s a figure of speech, Chip. Don’t worry about it.” Stefan fired up his comm and began scrolling. “Now to find a load to haul. Regardless of what she says, I’m paying Obele back for her oxygen. And we aren’t mentioning any of this to my husband when we get back home.”