"We need an answer now, Forster. Where is Guin, and why isn't she yet in command?"
The woman's voice was surprisingly chipper given her words.
The Comms Center was operating smashingly. Instead of veiled threats, Caldwell's associates demanded answers Forster didn't have. He was half-tempted to tell them she had died, even though the lie wouldn't stay his position. He also couldn't tell them about the quarantine. They'd view it as Forster's way of keeping his job, which in a way, it was.
Instead of answering directly, he asked, "If she's unavailable, for whatever hypothetical reason, who's her second?"
In reality, they had most likely expected her to pick a crew, thus her second would be as yet unknown. He wanted to know their contingency, and if it included him.
"If she's unavailable, as you hypothetically stated, her second is you, of course. You're the most highly-trained pilot on the ship," she said.
"Aw, gee, thanks," he said, "Very trust-inspiring of you to assign me to my own job."
"And why is Guin unavailable?" came the next question.
More drabble rolled forth, but he concentrated on the notifications on his interface, the one flashing:
DURACHAMBER ACTIVATION
"The hell?"
Forster touched a button, switching to observation mode. On screen, everything appeared hunky dory, except for the shadow floating in the chamber. No one in the main crew was scheduled for the deep sleep, at least, not until they figured out which way was down and which way was up. He squinted, and still couldn't make out who was in the machine, though they had long hair, which narrowed it to Russ or Guin. Something about the figure was...off. Upon zooming in, he flinched to discover they were missing a hand.
"Genly, give me a status on the durachamber," Forster barked into the ansible.
As he waited for the report, he switched the camera again, spying an empty quarantine area.
"And where the fuck is Guin?" he lowered his voice, making sure he was muted from the Comms Station attendant.
"Sir, Russ optioned for self-quarantine and amputation," Genly crisply informed him. "As for Guin, I will sweep the stations and radio back once I have her."
The green-shit was spreading, and now he was down a co-pilot.
"Get Samuel to the chambers, and have him assess Guin," he said, pulling all the camera feeds, but not locating Guin.
"You won't find me on the cameras," he heard a voice say.
Forster shifted, hand on the discharge weapon at his hip.
"How'd ya get out?" he asked without turning.
"Easy," Guin said, but failed to elaborate. She strolled to the side of him, depressing the mute button.
"This is star-farer number 345-7, and I'm ready to assume command."
Forster released the hold on his weapon. "Just like that, huh?"
Guin faced him, the green orbs in her sockets glowing fiercely.
"Just like that."