Pertumit Garundi 13

“Ellora Grace, do you read?” Fred’s voice cut through the suit com’s overlapping conversations.

“Right here, Fred, just follow the beacons.”  I’ve never been so happy to see my ship as Winter cast out a grappler to snag the metal fuselage and I followed the line all the way to the airlock.

I yanked my helmet off the sec the lock cycled through. “Don’t cast it off! These nasty little things don’t seem to like it for some reason.”

Winter had her hand on the eject/retract button, and she shot me a quizzical look before her expression morphed into one of horror. “Mehariet shuushoneki, is that what I think it is?” She pointed to the mine encased in its housing.  It was still inert although I’d placed it on the metal floor of the ship when I pulled off the ill-fitting envirosuit. 

“Yes, and I don’t know what this is protecting us or how it came to be, but I’ll take it for now.  We should take this thing to Marion; he might be able to determine if it is a lifeform.”

Winter looked physically ill for a nano.  She recovered swiftly though and shoved the case with the mine into a containment capsule and activated the field.  The blue glow enveloped the clear plexisteel container effectively placing the mine into stasis.  “Warn me next time you bring any Bildarthian chuksa on this ship.” Winter glared at me and stalked off leaving me to reel in the rest of the payload.

“Hello to you too, glad you are safe,” I muttered under my breath.

“I am happy you are safe.” Fred chimed in softly.

I sighed. “Thanks.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What in the seven hells is that?” Marion took one look at the containment canister and the grim expression on Winter’s face. 

L’Marchonase wore an equally grim expression. “Well, cousin, I’m hoping you can tell us.”

He walked all the way around the canister shaking his head.  “This is one of those mines, isn’t it?  You sent one of your insane chuksa Mentari out there to…”

I didn’t let him finish. “I took the Ni’chine ship after I’d discovered what they were carrying in their cargo hold.  I also discovered that one of their slaves wasn’t what it said it was.  My intent was to capture the imposter posing as a human, but the mines disintegrated his escape pod.  I saw an opportunity and used it.” I lifted my chin to stare at him. He blinked at me but wisely said nothing.

“This form does not like a piece of metal from the ship.  I think it wise to get a metallurgy and spectrometer team to look at the chunk to find out why.  In the meantime, I think whatever it is wrapped in holds it inert so be careful with the material.”

Marion slowly nodded his head.  “I’ll run an analysis on the wrappings first.  I’ll let you know what I find shortly.”

We left him conversing with his techs and headed for the battle bridge conference room. “My man in the Kerlian parliament should be ready to report.” L’Marchonase looked tense and as we entered the room I could see why.

The man with the shaggy dark hair and green prosthetic eye sat drumming his fingers on the redwood table.  He didn’t look like a diplomat dressed in a long duster coat made of Parchense duja leather.  His eyes were almond-shaped and only the deepening wrinkles around them betrayed his age.  He held his mouth strangely like his lips were overly extended at the corners.  My overall impression made me think about my elfin cousins back on Altamira.  When he stood, he was easily as tall as Winter. His glance slid over the both of us and he gave a slight nod to Winter.

Winter didn’t react.  She took her seat and folded her hands in her lap.  I sat down in one of the chairs behind her but close enough where I could hear the conversation. L’Marchonase gestured for him to begin.

He nodded. “The Kerlian Viseur and the primary adjudicator, called the Glazier, are rumored to have invested heavily into a project which needs the supply of Garundi amber to be profitable.  While the amber does produce a notable euphoric effect, their leaders have found a way to increase the effects of the amber, perhaps to use as a narcotic or for medical anesthesia.  If so, my contacts believe they intend to market the drug to their own people and export the remainder either legally for medical use or illegally as a party drug.  I heard a rumor, but have no proof of, a contact within the Hideku to move the meds off-world. 

Winter shifted in her seat but made no comment.

“I have also heard the labs creating these drugs are not on Kerlian but are in orbit.  Allegedly, they have two built and two still under construction.  The Viseur and Glazier siphoned off funds from off-world exports and import taxes to create the labs.  The discrepancy was noted by their consular staff but written off as an armament deal gone bad with the Sambrosians and a new race called the Trangee. I do not think the Kerlian parliament is aware of the depth of the embezzlement.”

“That sounds like a large-scale operation and one hard to hide.” L’Marchonase frowned.

“I thought so too, but they’ve acquired technology from somewhere that hides the labs from conventional detection. My guess is it must be the Trangee.  I’ve never heard of them before, and in my experience, the Sambrosians don’t have the kind of technology to hide orbital platforms.”

L’Marchonase nodded. “Were you able to find out any information about missing ships?  The transit authority seems to keep poor records.” He made a face indicting his disgust.

Diargento thumbed the controls on the table.  “My contacts weren’t specific, and this is a little out of their league.  But they did indicate there is a general wariness to travel beyond the buoy boundaries marking the main routes here, and here.” He marked the holo map with a stylus indicating a blank section of space.

Winter nodded and L’Marchonase’s frown deepened.  “Seems you were correct, Winter.  They have one way in and one way out just like we would.”

Diargento glanced at Winter. “This wouldn’t have something to do with those mines I’ve been hearing about?”

L’Marchonase sighed. “I expected Skelly to fill you in.  Did he tell you we captured one and are working on developing a countermeasure?”

Diargento grinned and he had a fair number of prosthetic teeth inlaid with auran. “He told me about the mines.  You’ve found a way to neutralize it already?”

L’Marchonase’s shrug was both poetic, practical, and indicated nothing beyond what Diargento apparently already knew.

Diargento left shortly thereafter, whistling to himself, and I thought, “There goes an extremely dangerous man.”

Winter apparently agreed with my unvoiced thought. “Enri, he’s trouble.  Valoise and the Ebroni woman are plotters, but they are essentially too greedy for their own good.  That one,” She indicated the departed Diargento with her hand, “Is the zagritzah at the bottom of the cistern.  He’s biding his time.”

L’Marchonase sighed heavily. “I know. The only reason I’m still Grand Captain of this fleet is that he and Skelly have not moved against me.  Those two are intelligent men and they also know they stand to make a lot of money because each of my crazy plans has worked…in the past.  I’m only as good as the next score, and we need to make one soon to keep the smaller ships in line.  He knows it too.” L’Marchonase’s com chimed, and he answered.  He made some non-committal noises and commed off.  “Marion’s found something.  He’ll be up.”

I used the intervening few chronos to visit the ‘fresher and smooth out my hair.  When I emerged, Winter and L’Marchonase were deep into a discussion of drone harassment tactics and how to use both ends of the bottleneck against the Garundis and Kerlians.  Marion rushed in, threw himself in a chair, and immediately dialed up a carafe of cafcocoa from the culinary dispenser.  He grabbed the thermocup, took a big swig, winced at the heat, and swallowed rapidly.  He waved the cup at me.

“You’re not going to believe this.  The reason why the mine is currently inert and why it doesn’t like the chunk of the wreckage is because both are organic matter.  I think I am looking at egg protein…well I know I am because the metal section of the ship is from the Ni’chine birthing well.”

I blinked. Ni’chine lay eggs? Birthing wells?

He must have read the expression on my face. “I know, it was a surprise to me too.  Our lady of cryogenic storage laid eggs recently because she has the egg brooding patch visible on her lower abdomen.”

“I didn’t see any eggs on the ship.” Not that I could have found them in the mess. 

“I don’t know a lot about the Ni’chine,” L’Marchonase spoke up, “But I do know those two weren’t a brooding pair.  I got the impression one was a hatchling of the other.”

Marion nodded. “I got the impression as well, which means the brood was brought on by something else.  They would have used the eggs for food, or randomly smashed the shells if the mood struck them.”

That would explain the smell. I wrinkled my nose. Winter remained impassive.

“I have a hypothesis based on the organic matter on the ship’s metal and the pouch around the mine.  They are both made of embryonic protein, although I couldn’t tell you what lifeform created the pouch and the protective barrier around the mine though.  I want to do a quantum dissection on the mine but rather than do it here on the Siren, we’d need to set me up on a disposable ship.”

L’Marchonase shook his head. “I would like to know the function of those mines as much as you do.  But you know how I feel about risking members of my immediate family.”

“Enri, you said the crews are restless.  Every rotation we wait, the certainty of mutiny becomes closer to reality.  How many people on this ship know I am your cousin? Entirely too many, and I knew it would come out at some point.  I am a liability to you, and you know it.”

Winter stood, and I stood with her. “You have much to discuss, Enri. We should leave you…”

“No.” L’Marchonase indicated the chair and Winter slowly sat back down leaving me to creep back into my seat. “My cousin and I can debate this later. While Marion is here, you,” He pointed at Winter, “Should narrate the fight with the Ni’chine for me.”

“Enri, I don’t…” Winter trailed off as the security footage from the fight was displayed on the holo system in the middle of the table.

The security Eyes caught Winter in one of the Siren’s lower cantinas drinking steadily and watching a newsie holo on her tabletop.  She clearly minded her own business and did not even appear to notice when the Ni’chine and their two mounts entered the bar.  The Eye moved forward a solis and it was clear the Ni’chine acted drunk and belligerent.  They insulted the bar staff, deliberately dropped drinks, and acted with hostility toward everyone.  In time, they were joined by two heavily hooded figures who appeared to be drinking less and intentionally chiding the Ni’chine for their lack of ability to bring in a live Hashtaaleen. The audio feed from the Ears in the bar fought through the ambient noise and provided a translation streamer at the bottom of the holo.

I didn’t tell Winter what I’d seen on the ship.  I didn’t even know how I’d broach the subject.  I wasn’t sure I could, either.  So, I sat and watched as the taller of the hooded individuals approached Winter’s table.  The two Ni’chine dismounted and chained their humans to the bag and chattel hooks under the table.  They circled around behind Winter while the tall, hooded humanoid spilled his drink all over her.  The second hooded one waited until Winter appeared distracted by the sudden bath in alcohol before plowing into her from behind.  The two Ni’chine drew their knives and dove on top of Winter.  The hooded ones attempted to hold her down while the Ni’chine presumably tried to saw off her head.  They only got ragged chunks of hair as Winter twisted out of the grip of the hooded ones and sprung the catch on her stave.  Winter slammed the business end of the weapon into the face of one of the Ni’chine and she howled as her eye was wrenched free of its socket and thrown across the room.  The hooded humanoids wisely backed off and disappeared into the crowd, leaving the Ni’chine to fend for themselves.  Stupidly, they continued to attack Winter and she dispatched them in a few chronos.  Winter pulled the drink bulb from the socket on the table and left the bodies on the floor of the cantina.  The Eye caught the hooded humanoids standing outside in the gathered crowd and watched as Winter staggered away. 

I saw it, and I am sure Winter saw it too although it was in the holo for only half a nanosec.  The cowl of the taller of the two hooded ones slipped exposing a flash of a colorful facial tattoo.

Valoise!

I’m sure Winter must have thought so too. She turned to me, tilted her head, and shrugged.  “I wish I could tell you what happened but, I don’t remember any of this, Enri.” She looked back at him and gave him a closed-lipped smile. 

I knew the expression on her face though even if L’Marchonase didn’t.  We were going to pay the captain of Siren fleet ship Sausenty-Une a visit soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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Pertumit Garundi 12

They weren’t just bounty hunters…they were headhunters.  Inside the hold were scores of heads of various alien species.  There were four unfortunate Hashtaaleen at the front, hung by their gill rakers.  There were two Metanids and a Wandro bound by its tusks.  Each of the heads had been sliced off and none too cleanly by the looks of it.  To my horror, there was also a Violeteer, her heliotrope-colored irises blown wide open, and her expression caught in her last scream.

She was no one I knew.  But the fact they had hunted Violeteer left me disquieted.  I got the seven hells out of there and made for the bridge.  I wear prosthetic lenses and old-fashioned frames sometimes to cover up my distinctive eye color.  I pulled up the manifest again to see if they’d recorded where they took their trophies.  The Hashtaaleen had all come from a slave hunt on Darbulatan.  I scanned down, skipping over the Metanid and Wandro entries, and finally, I found the entry for the Violeteer woman.  She’d been pulled from an Altamiran freighter during a raid.  They found her hiding in a shipping crate.  My bet was they only found her because she wanted them to find her and protected the rest of her family by doing so.  I felt sick.

There was a buyer’s name listed on the manifest although I expected it to be an alias.  The ladies would be paid forty thousand auran, the amount of Lady Hrissah’s bounty, for the Violeteer alone.  I made a note of the name. As I flipped through the manifest my neck started to tingle.  I’ve learned to trust the feeling, so I dove for the deck.  An energy bolt fried the rest of the manifest panel I’d been reading.  I threw one of my knives in the direction of the blast and was rewarded with a grunt.  I rolled from behind the acceleration couch and threw another. 

The human was one of the slaves the Ni’chine had ridden.  He calmly pulled the knife out of his shoulder, tossed it on the floor, and shook his finger at me.  “You shouldn’t be trespassing, little girl.”

“You should be in the brig!” I snapped and dove back around the couch as another energy bolt came my way.

“I guess I’m not the only one good at picking locks around here.  Although, I am curious to know how you did it, little one.”

I used my talent to throw my voice. “Who are you calling little, chucksa?”

To his credit, he didn’t follow the voice, but he did hesitate, which gave me a second to draw my sidearm and fire.

The bolt to the face should have taken a human down.  When I peered over the couch, it was clear I was not dealing with a human.  He’d dropped all glamour and I’d dealt him a nasty burn.  He was easily as tall as Winter but instead of a face, he had a ghastly visage of muscle and bone.  I caught a glimpse of pointed ears and sharp teeth before he whirled and dove down the hatch toward the escape pods.  I ran after him and fired again shattering part of a panel over his head.  Sparks rained down on his long black hair and he twisted to fire at me. I dove to the floor and the bolt sizzled overhead.  He made it to the escape pod and slammed the latch with a fist and threw himself inside.  I scrambled to my feet and tried to aim at the pod controls.  The being laughed at me, and I could hear him in my head.  “Nice try, little brownie.  You’ll hear from us soon enough.”

The controls explosively ejected the pod into space and slammed the airlock doors shut.  I ran back to the bridge and tried to get the ship’s gun batteries online. “Fred! Target that escape pod! Disable it!”

I could only watch as Fred took aim and winged the pod with a volley of fire.  It wobbled precariously and I waited to see if the Siren would put a tractor beam on it.  Instead, the pod seemed to melt in front of my eyes. Parts of it were breaking off and dissolving.

“I didn’t think I hit it that hard” Fred commented in my ear.  It took me a moment to process what I saw.  I found the magnify on their ship’s cameras and swore.

“Fred, send a ship-wide warning to the Siren and break off.  That’s a swarm of those micro mines and they appear to be headed right at us.”

“Ellora, where should I go? They could be everywhere.”

Fred had a point although he was a sitting pelion attached to the Siren.  I thought hard for a sec. “The only reason why I saw them was I got the magnify on in time.  Otherwise, they are nearly invisible.  They flare slightly when they are dissolving hull plating.  If we could somehow focus on what caused the flare…”

“We might be able to send out something on that mimics the plates and catch the phenomenon on record to analyze.” Fred finished for me.  I am always amazed at how intuitive he is for an artificial lifeform. 

“Hang on. I’ve got an idea.”  The Siren started to move away from the last known position of the mines. 

“Whatever you’ve got in mind, you’d better hurry.  The navigators on the Siren want to jump to Garundi space.”

I could hear Winter in the background yelling at someone, probably the Siren’s bridge crew.  “Don’t deploy your vanes, you karking bunch of sojoni chuksa! Does no one listen to me or your Captain?”  I winced at the sudden increase in volume.

I could see Fred break free of the umbilical and dive down beneath the main ship. “Grace, where the…” There was a burst of static as one of the smaller ancillary ships suddenly seemed to lose attitude control and plowed into the side of the nearest larger numbered ship.  I hoped, selfishly, it was Valoise’s ship, but I didn’t think we’d get that lucky.

“I’m on the Ni’chine ship.  I’m going to take it out.” Fortunately, the main engineering section appeared to operate independently of the battery system.  I fired up the Hrissok’s engines with the help of the translation matrix provided by Fred on my reader.  “Fred, I want you to lock onto my tweeter.  I’m going for a space jaunt, and I want you to pick me up when you can.”

I set the ship on course for where I thought the cloud of micro mines had drifted.  I ran through the filthy corridors to the airlock and spent a frantic moment hunting for one of their safety ship suits.  I finally found one, fortunately, it must have been Lady Mdeeph’s as she was the taller of the two Ni’chine.  The suit had a plexisteel ring around the helmet seal.  I prayed the suit would not attract the trigger mechanism on the mines.  I crammed myself into the suit and believe me, it was a tight fit.  The smell wasn’t much better, but at least I could scrub the oxygen.  I cycled the airlock and used a tether gun to attach myself to one of the vane struts. 

I’m not one for zero-gee which is why Winter always does the spacewalks.  It messes with my balance and the vertigo isn’t a pleasant sensation.  I gritted my teeth and watched the other ships try to figure out where they should go to avoid the mines.  One of the larger numbered ships deployed its vanes and clearly tried to generate a singularity. Instead, its kieren drive exploded propelling it into four other ships and causing them to either explode or hit other ships in the vicinity. My suit helmet blacked out the brightest of explosions and fortunately for me, I turned away to untangle my tether, so I wasn’t blinded.

 I spotted an odd little dot on the port vane generator and on investigation discovered one of the mines steadily dissolving the hull plating around the inertial system’s manifold.  The mine wasn’t much larger than my hand and detached with a hard tug.  Once I pulled it off the ship, it seemed to become inert.  I studied it and if I didn’t know better, I would have thought it was a lifeform.  It had a u-shaped black body with a prehensile segmented tail.  The tail retracted into the body but not before I saw a wicked set of pincers on the tip of the tail.  The carapace of the thing appeared to have an upper section and a lower one where a set of ten jointed legs dangled.  After a chrono or two, the legs also retracted inside the body.  It had no eyes that I could discern.  It had two short stubby antennae on the upper protrusion, so I thought the sensor array was housed there.

  The Ni’chine ship powered down and started to drift.  I watched as the mines ate through the thinner parts of the hull.  I knew when they’d hit the oxygen generators as the ship vented vapor into space.  I had to move out of the way as a bubble of engine coolant fizzed up out of a seal and pushed the ship further away from the Siren.  I could not see the Fred.  I checked the gauge on my oxygen tank.  It was still full, and if it was correct, I had six soliss to pray this little stunt was worth the effort.  I was cold, and I checked the internal heat which registered as on at least.  The Ni’chine have fur so it made sense they would not need to heat their suits as much.  My teeth were starting to chatter, and my breath frosted against my helmet making it difficult to see.  At least the explosions stopped.  The Siren and the pirate fleet managed to dodge the rest of the mine swarm.

“Ellora Grace, report.” Winter sounded calm but by the way she spat out my name let me know she was anything but. The antennae on the Fred was powerful but I had no idea if it was powerful enough to discern a suit com out of all the background noise, but I spoke into my com anyway.

“Winter, I got one.  I’m tethered to the Ni’chine ship although the mines are eating through it faster than I thought possible.  I think the starboard vanes are all compromised, and I’m too far away now but I think the Ni’chine had a Descubirre Kieren engine.  I know the mines disabled the manifold because the engine coolant is creating a colored glow over the aft section.  I auto-powered the ship down so no kieren reaction is happening but the ship will ignite eventually. I’d like to not be here when it happens.  Have you a lock on me yet?”

There was a long pause.

I thought maybe they hadn’t heard me.  I checked my suit oxygen and tried to slow my breathing.  Realistically, I could freeze to death long before I ran out of air.  I studied the inert mine and wondered how it sensed hull plating.  I also wondered how in the seven hells we were going to get it aboard the Fred for study.

I dodged flotsam and jetsam from the Ni’chine ship.  One or more of the mines breached an airlock, as tools, a torn ship suit, and containers of luxury foods floated past me.  Idly, I wondered if they had an account with the Paloma Group or stole from someone who had.  The box of Realmese butterbee jelly infused with auran flakes made me think about the Violeteer woman.  I decided when this adventure was over, should I survive it, I was going to track down the name of the buyer and pay them a visit.

I watched a small cloud of mines float past me, past the crates of organic materials, and latch themselves onto a piece of metal from what I thought was left of the airlock. These mines were smaller than the one I held and would be nearly impossible to see even with magnification.  They looked like bits of carbon moving in a murmuration over the metal. Strangely, they moved together, away from the chunk, and floated on to the main body of the ship.

I wondered what it was about the piece they didn’t like, so I used my suit thrusters to nudge myself toward it. My sample mine twisted toward the metal and extended its feet.  I allowed it to touch the metal chunk and it appeared to tap it a few times before retracting into itself again.

Huh. Well, that was interesting. It made no sign it intended to go to the ship, like the others.  I studied the metal hunk and wondered what was different about it.  I couldn’t tell anything visually, but perhaps it had a different composition than the rest of the ship.  Fred could tell but he and Winter had troubles of their own.  If they ran into a swarm of those micro mines, they might not even know they had a serious problem. 

I wondered if my suit had any diagnostic equipment.  Unfortunately, I left my Ni’chine language translation matrix on the ship along with my reader.  Fortunately, most ship suits, especially the airlock variety, have either universal point me symbols or translations in Standard.  I studied the controls on the sleeve of the suit.  I’d already figured out the thrusters as they were in point me directions. I thought the suit might be used for spacewalks to make minor repairs or help with cargo.  If so, I might be able to run a rough scan of the metal piece to determine if there was anything different about it.  Meteoroids, small cometary debris, and certain types of gasses are problematic for space travel.  If the debris is fine enough, it can get past your shields, which is why most systems outlawed particle mines.  I doubt the Bildarthians knew or cared about the Navarran Accords. 

Anyway, I didn’t have anything better to do so I kept up a running monologue with Fred, assuming he could hear me and decided to figure out what each button on the sleeve did for the suit.

“Fred, Winter…I have a fascinating view of this system, wherever it is.  Amazingly, there is nothing here, which is like the rest of deep space real estate.  I have little better to do but hang on to my little mine, wait to be rescued, or run out of air, whichever happens first.  Normally, I would not waste the oxygen talking, but I think the audio transmission will help you find me.  So, I am recording this and sending in microbursts in hopes you can triangulate my location.  I am still attached to the Ni’chine ship, but I am at maximum tether to avoid debris from the ship as best I can.  Of course, a large lump of space rock could easily sever the connection too, and I am not where I can grab on to anything.  I’ve found a section of the ship which does not seem to be on the mines list of things to destroy.  If I can find the beacons on this suit, provided it has any, I am going to attach one to the hunk of metal.  I am certain we should analyze this piece as there is something about it the mines don’t like.  My little mine, the one I captured from the ship, will only tap on it, and I watched an entire small swarm land on it and leave again.  Grace out.”

My first decision was to find a beacon.  Beacons tend to be small, and their main use is to tag cargo.  You’d be surprised at how many times cargo crates, boxes, and bags do not have good containment fields.  So, as freight haulers, we’ve had our share of crates come in half empty.  One of my first jobs on the Fred was to check containment fields on crates, and physically check cargo manifests.  The bills of lading might say the entire cargo was there but sometimes we’d find boxes of goods floating around the docks because their crate containment was faulty.  Or as salvagers, we’d find a ship heavily damaged by well, whatever damaged it, and we’d spacewalk to rope in drifting cargo.  Beacons made it easy to put a tractor on any crates and haul them in. 

I found what I thought was the attachment projector, but it occurred to me, any lateral movement by me would cause me to drift on a trajectory close to the Ni’chine ship.  I also didn’t want to bounce into the chunk since some of the edges of the metal looked sharp, and I didn’t want to cut a hole in my suit. I didn’t want to be near the ship when it blew. The piece of metal was static, meaning it wasn’t tumbling or rotating.  I didn’t want to cause it to start either.  Then it occurred to me to use my mine to get me close enough without hitting it at the wrong angle. 

It took some doing.  I’d already drifted a good distance away since the last experiment with the mine.  I tapped the thrusters just enough to start forward momentum and let the mine drag me the rest of the distance to the metal.  As before, the mine extended its feet and tapped the piece. While it was evaluating the piece as a source for dinner, I manually attached the beacon and activated it. 

The mine acted as before and I almost lost my grip on it because it moved with more force this time, as if it wanted to get away from the piece as fast as possible.  We drifted away and the tether to the ship tightened.  I dodged another bubble of engine coolant and a glob of chuksa from the waste containment system.  I stuck a beacon on my little mine in case I lost my grip on it.  Then, I recorded another message for Fred and Winter and sent it as a microburst.

I spent the next three or four soliss in moments of sheer terror and vertigo, trying not to get covered in whatever substances were leaking from the ship, and wiggling every part of my body I could so as not to freeze to death. Even with the suit heat on high, hypothermia was a serious concern.  I was concerned, believe me.

My suit com activated but all I got was a broken-up message from Fred.  “Getting the fleet to safety…sweeping for mines…come find you…activate beacon…”  Well, I’d done that already so all I could do was admire the lights from distant stars and the phosphorescent glow from the tail end of the Ni’chine ship.  It reminded me of a tale I’d read when I was a teenager about the phenomenon on water planets of golden tides and the glowing ionic discharge caused by strong atmospheric storms aboard sailing ships. 

I’m not a religious person, unlike my father who insisted I follow the old ways when I lived in his palace on Altamira.  I keep it confined to an oath now and again.  But, out there in the black, all by myself, I decided to have a mental conversation with Oberonae and Dantiana.  I explained I’d been a little bit lax in keeping traditions and I would rectify the oversight if they would just see fit to send someone to fetch me before my oxygen ran out.  I remember promising to build an altar for my ancestors and to them aboard the Fred.  I also promised to keep it maintained so this was not a one-and-done promise.  I remember my oxygen tank registering as low, but I don’t remember losing consciousness.

I was either dreaming or hallucinating from hypoxia.  But I remember a craft and it was small, about the same size as an Altamiran fighter.  It was like a solid oval, and I remember thinking it looked like a seedpod from a Banyaran tree.  It had no propulsion I could discern, no windows or canopies to open.  It glided up to me and I remember being amazed at the lovely swirling patterns of pink and iridescence on the ship’s exterior.  I don’t remember an airlock.  One moment I was drifting in space and the next I was aboard the craft.  A pinkish-colored tendril pulled my helmet off, and I remember taking a deep breath of soft, fragrant air.  I could not tell you what the fragrance was, only it was like the small white stephanicus blossoms from the alpine regions of my home planet.  I still had the mine and it remained inert the entire time I was aboard the ship.  I got the impression I wasn’t inside long.  I had no sensation of movement or vibration from the engines.  The ship had no navigation panels or piloting chairs.  It appeared hollow inside with only depressions on the floor of the craft.  I tested the area where I lay with my gloved hand, and it seemed spongy and soft.  The next thing I knew, my helmet snapped back on, and I found myself once again drifting in space.  The strange craft departed the same way it came, and it vanished into the blackness with considerable speed.

My oxygen tanks were refilled.  The craft left me, my mine, and the chunk of metal where I could see the fleet amassing closer to (what I guessed to be) the heliopause of Pertumit Garundi.  I could hear ship traffic chatter on my com loud and clear.  My tweeter started beeping, which meant the Fred was within strong transmission range, so I started yelling into my suit’s transmitter.  I looked down and the mine was no longer in my hand but in a gelatinous casing.  Whatever or whoever took me aboard the ship took great pains to wrap the mine up.  Not only did it have the clear gel housing, but it was also wrapped in sheeting that held it like a pouch.  I discovered my glove was tied to the pouch so the mine wouldn’t get away easily.

To say I had a religious epiphany would be an understatement.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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Pertumit Garundi 11

L’Marchonase called a meeting of his senior captains and included Winter in the group. I went along with her, mainly because I wasn’t entirely sure she was over her episode. I knew she’d been asleep for most of our downtime because Fred was monitoring her, and he told me she’d only woken up for the system message from L’Marchonase.

She looked marginally better after a shower and in a clean ship suit. She’d done nothing about the state of her hair, though. L’Marchonase saw her and frowned. The other captains from L’Marchonase’s interior fleet wisely said nothing about her or her appearance. We met in one of the stately board rooms near the bridge of the Silver Siren. Rather than name his ancillary ships, L’Marchonase’s fleet all had numbers, so the captains gave their names and the number of their ship. Fortunately, not all the captains were present, or we’d probably still be sitting there. Only the largest, the ones close to the size of the Siren herself, were included. I lost interest after the first five ships, but there was at least fifteen larger craft. L’Marchonase dove into the subject without preamble.

“We have an additional complication. I’ve asked the Sambrosians to gather information from their contacts about ships that went missing from Pertumit Garundi space and sent a direct query to the transit control of Kerlian about their absent craft. We have solid information which indicates the broad swaths of open space on our star charts are mined by Bildarthian BB mines.

One of the captains, the one in the blue cap with a red and purple tattoo covering half of his face, spoke up, “You mean, stories about the Bildarthians are true? Are we expecting a Hashtaaleen ghost to walk in here any second and make us run for our mothers?” He guffawed, and the others shifted in their chairs.

Winter said nothing. She studied him for a few seconds before she spoke up. “Bildarthia was the name my people gave to them after we’d traded with them for a while. I think the word might translate into “angry crabs” in Standard. Before that, they were only known as “more foreigners from somewhere else.” She shrugged.

One of the other captains spoke up. She was humanoid with deep purple skin and long silver braids tied with silver clasps. “Hashtaal was in the Ebrak Seran section of space. Nowhere near here. How did the mines get here?”

Winter spoke up again. “Bildarthian space is vast. I have never heard of a ship that returned from a reconnaissance mission to determine how much space they hold. I know their only foray into Ebrak Seran was to trade with my people and a few other races in the vicinity.”

Blue cap spoke up again, “You expect me to believe you are Hashtaaleen? Pardon my skepticism, but they’ve been dead or enslaved for centuries, Ebrak Seran is home to more than a few lifeless rocks, and no one has seen a Bildarthian in recent memory. How do we know these mines still exist?”

Winter gave him a faint, closed-lipped smile. “Furian’s Maze exists, and no one doubts it does even though the navigational hazards are largely invisible. BB mines are nearly impossible to detect. Understand the Bildarthians the Hashtaali knew were paranoid, secretive, and strange. They had an unreasonable fear of the Hashtaaleen, which is why the mines protect their section of space. My people figured out where they were but were never interested in tracking down their homeworld. We found the forward edge and traced it. We found out about BB mines the hard way when they used them in our shipping lanes, creating an embargo on our trade.

The woman spoke up again. “Everything I’ve read about the Hashtaal/Bildarthian conflict doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. They attacked Hashtaal for seemingly no reason, destroyed the planet, and promptly retreated into their section of space, never to be heard from again. I realize this discussion is off track, and our meeting is what to do about these mines. But, what if knowing more about the conflict could lead us to a way to deactivate the mines?”

L’Marchonase started to speak, but Winter held up her hand. “You are Ebroni, aren’t you? Your people came from T’altachuri in Ebrak Seran before leaving your planet and resettling on Ebron, correct?”

The woman straightened and raised her chin. “We did. How is the information relevant?”

Winter shrugged. “Hashtaal appealed to T’altachuri for help when the Bildarthians attacked. Your ancestors refused. Perhaps you should start there if you want to know what happened.”

“Winter…” I leaned over to her and shook my head. She shrugged her shoulders again and looked at her hands clasped in her lap.

L’Marchonase cleared his throat. “As insane as this sounds, I think the only way to defeat such a weapon is to acquire one and reverse engineer it. We can work out where the mines might be from reports of missing ships, but someone will have to go out there, risk their ship, and actually bring one back.”

“Or we can just attack them in their shipping lanes. Let that cannon fodder of recruits deal with the BB mines. My crew discussed what we think is an issue…too many people mean less profit in shares.” 

Blue cap struck me as a greedy piece of chucksa.

“Keep in mind, Valoise, one-half of nothing is still nothing.” L’Marchonase’s tone was deceptively mild.

I spoke up. “Have you drone ships? How about using a drone or something unmanned to go out there into the minefield and collect one? It might eat through the drone proxy, but at least no one dies in the process. Maybe something shielded from the borath? So, it doesn’t trigger?”

Winter glanced up at me and gave a slight nod of her head. The conversation moved off the Hashtaaleen and Bildarthian conflict and onto practical ideas on how to deal with the mines. I listened for a while as the ship captains discussed what they should do. My attention was pulled away from the conversation by Winter, who was covertly studying Valoise, and the purple-skinned captain, whose name I didn’t catch. Valoise and the other captain were having a silent exchange, and I wondered if we’d have to fight our way off the Silver Siren or wait to be accosted later.

Not long after, L’Marchonase dismissed the room. Winter and I made to leave. “No, I’d like the two of you to stay.” L’Marchonase smiled, but I didn’t think it was a request, so I sat back down.

Winter waited until the other captains left. “Valoise is a liability. He and the other one are going to move against you. Not today, not tomorrow, but someday soon. They’ll try to make it look like an accident first.”

L’Marchonase sighed and sat down. “I know. It’s been brewing for a while. They’ve not moved because they’ve not had support from their crews, but the longer we sit without turning profits, the antsier they become. I’ve been trying to spin this as the score of a lifetime, but the news about the mines will travel fast. We’re going to have to develop a plan sooner than later. I’m hoping the Sambrosians will get the data for me within the next mainday. The Kerlian transit authority is a typical bureaucracy. I may have to encourage them with judicious bribery.” He sighed again.

“Who among that lot do you trust?” Winter poured herself a cup of water and sat back down.

L’Marchonase made a noise with his mouth. “None of them. Not really. I suppose the ones with a better sense of enlightened self-interest are Diargento and Skelly.” He dialed up their faces onto the table screens in front of us. Diargento was a handsome man but for the scar running from his scalp to his chin on the right side of his face. His eye was clearly a prosthetic. His shoulder-length dark hair fell in waves down to his shoulders, and his chin had a gentle cleft. He would not have been out of place at the Regent’s Palace in The Realm. Skelly, in contrast, was long-faced with shorn blond hair and big ears. He had no chin to speak of and a large nose. I didn’t recall seeing Diargento, but I remembered Skelly. He’d hovered near the back of the room and said nothing at all other than his name and ship designation at the beginning of the meeting.

“Diargento’s a public relations genius, which is why he wasn’t at the meeting.” L’Marchonase turned off the pictures. “He’s very good with his crew simply because he knows what to say to them. He’s worked his way up from overseeing the culinary transcription systems. He’s also good at espionage. He’s one of the spies I sent to listen in on Kerlian’s parliament. I am expecting his report soon. Skelly originally was the first mate on the Siren before taking his own ship. He could have gone off on his own, but he sees the advantage of a large fleet versus small hit-and-run jobs. Unlike a lot of our captains and crews, he’s like John in that he has a first-rate education from the Academia Altamira.”

Another Altamiran. I hoped he hadn’t recognized me, although fifteen cerens is a long time for a human. Since my people age slower, though, not much has changed about me, except my hair is longer and maybe a darker shade of brown. Skelly was easily about the age of the Crown Prince and his twin brother. I felt a deep pang of sadness. The Crown Prince was a dour child who’d had royal duty pounded into him since birth. However, his identical twin had been a smart, free-spirited kid who was my only friend within the palace who liked me for me. He didn’t call me a brownie behind my back like many palace retainers. He was younger, by ten years, but a lot wiser in many ways. Until his accident, that is. Something happened to him, and he became a drooling idiot within just a few soliss. His mother, the Empress of Altamira, was beside herself. I got the impression she somehow blamed my father because relations between our palace and hers became very frosty. 

‘Ric was instrumental in all our capers. He’d been the bright spot in my days of drudgery. He even figured out how to circumvent the palace security to build a treehouse in the woods down by the lake. I could do what I liked if I took someone with me, so my father’s retainer and friendly palace guard Nyx, ‘Ric, and I would pretend to be pirates. I often wondered what ‘Ric would say if he found out I’d become a real pirate. He’d probably laugh and want to join in, knowing him. What happened was tragic and one of the reasons I left. Like the Empress, I also suspected my father had a hand in ‘Ric’s accident, although I didn’t have the means to prove it. I can feel malignant magics, and there was something “off” about his accident.

I was brought out of my musings by L’Marchonase gently guiding Winter by the elbow out of the room. I was amazed she let him touch her, but he’d also kept up a steady stream of information directed at her, and I don’t think she realized it. He guided her down a few corridors to the ship’s barber. He planted her in a chair with a reader and stepped back. The barber quickly went to work on Winter’s uneven hair crafting it into a bob with longer strands in the front. She was distracted enough by the reader and L’Marchonase’s continued discussion. She only looked at herself in the mirror once, nodded her head, and then went back to discussing stinger ships versus dart skiffs to deploy to harass the Garundi gunships and traders.

We spent the next three maindays in discussions and conferences. I found out that Skelly was not the life of the party. He was rather humorless, and I only spent fifteen chronos around him before making myself scarce. I did spend much of my time with Marion Trafalgar when he was off duty. He invited me to the med bay while it wasn’t busy to see their vitae tank, which was an absolute wonder.

Marion stepped away to assist a staff member with a patient when I wandered into the cryogenics section of the medical center. I easily found the cryochamber holding the Ni’chine woman who’d attacked Winter. Understand at this point, the fight was still under security review, but I believed Winter. Winter might have been blind drunk, but I’ve seen her fight before. She never attacks, but she will defend herself. I wondered what happened to the human slaves. The last I saw of them, they were being beaten by their diminutive owners. I studied the face of the woman. Ni’chine is shorter than me by at least a faren. By comparison, an average human woman stands about five and a half farens tall. I’m only five farens. Winter is at least six farens may be slightly taller. The Ni’chine was roughly four farens of pure viciousness. One of her green-furred ears hung in her face. She missed an eye, and I could see exposed brain tissue above her matted hairline.

“I see you found Lady Mdeeph.” Trafalgar has an uncanny ability to walk softly. I controlled the impulse to jump. Instead, I turned and looked at him.

“I see why you stuck her in cryo. That head wound is nasty.” I decided to act casual.

“You shouldn’t be in here. Security is still looking into what happened and should finish today, I think.” Trafalgar moved to escort me away, but I dodged him easily.

“What happened to their human slaves? Were they also killed?” I cocked my head and gave him a winning smile.

He sighed. “I shouldn’t tell you, but they are in the brig. Before you ask, they are receiving medical care. We don’t treat slaves of any race poorly around here, as you can imagine.”

I frowned, “Why are they in the brig?” I allowed myself to be steered away from the cryounit.

“Standard procedure for anyone in a fight who is injured. We would have put Winter there, but you took care of it for us.” Trafalgar shrugged.

“So, they are not up on charges, just Winter?” I gave him a hard stare.

“Actually, no charges of any kind have been filed against anyone. The Ni’chine cruiser is still docked to the ship. I think they had a minimal crew.”

“Oh.” I gave him a bright smile. “You know, Marion, I could go for some of the ship’s culinary technology right now. How about we find some of those Ramishi spicy noodles?”

I like Marion Trafalgar because he’s always up for new dishes to eat. He essentially dropped everything he was doing to escort me to the captain’s lounge, where we ate and played chessk and eranminton for the rest of the ship’s day.

In the ship’s alterday, after Winter drifted off to her cabin, I left the Fred to do some reconnaissance. The first thing I did, though, was check to make sure all my knives were hidden well on my person. I quietly cycled the airlock and whispered into my com, “Fred, give me a rough idea where the Ni’chine cruiser is docked.”

Fred hummed in my ear for a chrono before commenting. “Siren’s mainframe indicates the ship you are looking for is docked on the portside aft section. I can send directions to your tweeter.”

I muttered my thanks at Fred and followed the moving map of the Siren. Fred anticipated my desire for stealth, so he routed me through less-traveled sections of the ship. I finally arrived at their docking portal in roughly eighty chronos.

The ship was painted the same color green as their fur. Their docking ring held a complicated-looking lock. From the looks of it, someone had already tried to blow the door to no avail. Fortunately, the seals held, or we’d all be frozen dots in space. Honestly, I did not care about security eyes. They can watch me if they want to, although chances are there was no one manning the eyes for this section of the ship. I reached into the thigh pocket of my black shipsuit and pulled out my tools.

I’d learned lock picking early in life. When ‘Ric, Nyx, and I would escape the palace, my knowledge of locks combined with ‘Ric’s ability to reconstruct computer call codes ensured we could go anywhere in either palace unhindered. I examined the lock on the Ni’chine ship and decided whoever tried to blow the lock was a rank amateur.

The lock was of Rangolin make, so it was added aftermarket on the ship. Rangolin shipyards provide posh extras like auran lidded toilets and yuzuni scented oxygen scrubbers. Rangolese locks also have a failsafe, which you have to override before you can get the lock to open. Usually, it is a keycode or a password known only to the owners. In this case, I was betting that Ladies Hrissah and Mdeeph were too impatient to encode anything but the simplest passcodes.

“Fred, do you have a lead on the name of the Ni’chine ship? Or a registry?” I fiddled with the lock and watched it turn, so I had the right tool. I hoped it wasn’t a series of numbers, or I’d be there all night. Fred hummed in my ear as he patched himself into the Siren’s mainframe. I gave the lock the lightest of taps and felt the physical part of the lock slide into place.

“Ellora, the registry is for the Ni’chine homeworld of Tavasu. This ship has been berthed repeatedly at their transfer station of Baphel. The name of the cruiser is the Hrissok. I’m afraid I can’t access anymore without setting off alarms in the core mainframe.”

“Yeah, we’re already in trouble for your vocal performance for Winter and the entire crew of the Siren the other night.” I sighed. I hoped my passcode errors would not lock me out or cause the ship to blow up. “Well, here goes nothing.” I took out my pocket reader, and Fred sent me the Ni’chine translations for all three words of interest. I placed my hand on the lock tried to ‘see’ what the last set of fingers had done. I shut out all the sounds of machinery and various pings from small particles hitting the outer hull of the Siren. The Ni’chine had three claws on each triangular appendage. My thumb became one clawset, my index, and middle the second; my last two became the third. In my mind’s eye, I saw someone make three keystrokes Ta Va Su.

The lock cycled open, and unrecycled ship air escaped all around me. I held my nose. The fetid odor made my eyes water. Instead of immediately boarding the ship, I went to the emergency locker and found a mask and rebreather. There was no way I was going in a ship that smelled that bad without a mask. I pulled the gangway up but didn’t lock it in case I needed to leave in a hurry. I found the airlock override, and the ship had enough power to turn on the lights. I found the bridge first, and it was a disgusting mess. Rotten, half-eaten food was strewn everywhere. There were drink bulbs of expensive alcohol broken all over the floor. The acceleration couches looked like they hadn’t been cleaned in a hundred cerens. No one had bothered to activate the cleaning bots, so the offal accrued everywhere. They must not have been afraid of losing their artificial gravity, if they had, the chip wraps might have strangled them before they were cut to ribbons by flying cutlery. There were drink bulbs on the navicomputer panels, and apparently, no one had thought to connect to the Siren’s power supply. Their internal batteries were nearly dead. My reader identified which buttons to push, and I got the main power back on.

The rest of the ship wasn’t much better. The two Ni’chine clearly didn’t use their slaves as cleaning crew. I saw bloodstains, and then there were other stains I didn’t want to think about. The lounge was strewn with clothing, trinkets, and various souvenirs and holos. The manifest read a full cargo, so I headed down an old-fashioned plexisteel ladder to find out what they were carrying. Their hold was set for sub temperatures, so I knew I wasn’t going to be able to stay long. I finally got the door open and glanced inside.

What I saw made me gag.

Pertumit Garundi 10

“Get us ready to clear out.” I barked into my com to Fred.  Winter looked ashen and swayed on her feet.  I all but pushed her down the still, (thank Oberonae and Dantiana,) deserted corridors of the Silver Siren.  I dragged her aboard and cycled the lock.  Fred sent a hovbed and I pushed Winter onto it, even though she protested.  Her complaint was feeble though as she rolled onto her side with a groan.  I got her to our small medical bay and let the machines do the diagnostic work.  The slice on the abdomen only needed swabbing and anti-bac.  The claw marks required sutures.  The cut on her face needed both anti-bac and micro sutures.  The botdoc started fluids for dehydration, and additional analgesics, as her core temperature was elevated.

How it knew what the core temperature of a Hashtaaleen was, I had no idea.  I assumed at some point, Winter must have provided biometric data to Fred’s diagnostic sensors and the bot could use that information for comparison. When I look at Winter, and if I didn’t know her, I would assume she was a taller-than-average human woman.  But there are small things about her that make it obvious her biology is different.  She has gills for one.  They are hardly noticeable but when you look closely at the sides of her throat, you can see the thin red line where her gill slits are visible.  She has slight webbing on her fingers, which like the gills, wouldn’t be all that pronounced unless she was in the water, I guess.  She has round pupils that tighten down into slits, like those of a feline.  She also has a nictitating membrane in her eye and I’m not sure of its function.  I can see the pupil response as useful in low-light situations.

 I think the scariest thing about her is the fangs.  She has a humanoid set of teeth, but she also has a secondary set of canines that extend down over or maybe under, I’ve never gotten a good look at them.  Narellian told me once her caste was born half in and half out of the water. Narellian also told me she should give up running around the galaxy and settle down with him, as there were not enough free Hashtaali in the universe.

I can imagine what she thinks of that idea.  She tolerates Narellian but I don’t think she likes him much.  To me, he’s an insufferable bore, an elitist, and woefully ignorant of anything outside his specialty. He’s lucky I suppose.  He’s not a product of the Hashtaaleen ghettos, Finral’s World, and Darbulatan.

The botdoc let Winter out of the infirmary and she staggered onto the bridge. “Are we going somewhere?” She rubbed her nose, and blood stained her fingertips.

“Under the circumstances? I think we should let them deal with it.  Now, Ualune sounds like a great idea.” Honestly, I wasn’t sure L’Marchonase could pull it off.  Old Bildarthian mines didn’t sound like a lucrative deal to me.

Winter half slid half-collapsed into her navigation couch.  “Fred, power down. We aren’t leaving.” She sighed.

“What? Care to explain why?” I put my hands on my hips and stared incredulously at her. “You got the chucksa beaten out of you, they’re dealing with a bunch of greedy idiots as far as I can tell, and frankly, I’ve heard about the Bildarthian tendency to mine the sojoni out of a sector and forget about them…until some unfortunate ship happens to find them.”

Winter raised her eyebrows. “Where have you heard about Bildarthian technology before?  I think it is safe to say, you and I have never discussed it.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Around. Ships gossip, stuff like that.”  I didn’t want to tell her Darryl and I both knew Winter talked in her sleep.  She also sleepwalks which is why Fred has the override command to lock her in her cabin.  Darryl didn’t want her to have an episode, sleepwalk to the bridge, and change our course headings in the navicomputer.  Not that Fred wouldn’t catch it in time, but she could theoretically program him to ignore any other commands but hers.  Darryl wasn’t too enthralled with the idea of flying into a supernova. Fred often translated what Winter said if he understood the dialect, but only Darryl heard that part.  She’d tell me if she thought it was interesting enough. Darryl thought BB mines did bear mentioning, although I read enough from my father’s archive on Bildarthian weaponry to know what kind of havoc the weapons would cause with a ship’s systems.

I contemplated killing Darryl myself if I ever met her again at this point. Leaving us in debt was one thing, leaving me to deal with Winter’s eccentricities was unconscionable.

Winter studied me and I resisted the impulse to look at the floor.  She narrowed her eyes, and I got the impression she was probing me.  Understand the Violeteer do have telepathic and telekinetic abilities, although I’m not adept at either skill.  I’ve never heard if the Hashtaaleen had such abilities or not. I think Winter might be good at reading expressions, so I kept my guileless simpleton face on and ducked my head when she finally looked away.

“So, you would cut and run anyway? What if that was your family then?” She wasn’t looking at me, she was studying the navigational display on her console and seemed to be reviewing a star chart. 

I wondered how much she already knew about me and if this was a loaded question.  I also tried to decide how to answer without her working out I’d been listening in on her conversation with L’Marchonase. 

“They aren’t your family.  You said so yourself.” I went to my acceleration couch and sat down but didn’t strap in.

“Ah so, Marion Trafalgar regaled you with tales about his ancestor, hasn’t he?” Winter shifted her seat so she could look at me.

I decided the truth would be the wisest course.  “He mentioned he and L’Marchonase were cousins, and they were related to the Yeltsin Boudreaux family and the pirate entrepreneur John Trafalgar.”

Winter nodded her head and her expression turned contemplative.  “His name was Emerson Boudreaux.  He took the name John Trafalgar when he was framed for murder.  He was sent to the mines for his crime and was disowned by his family.  He was married to Misandre LeBranau who thought he was having an affair with her sister.  He wasn’t but she framed him for her murder.  Misandre was mentally ill, and it became obvious before it was all over,  she was the one who killed her sister.  She also tried to kill her three children with Emerson by spacing them.  Fortunately, someone had left a suit in the airlock, and all three of them got in it before the lock cycled open.  They were saved by their uncle who heard them screaming into the suit’s com. The Boudreaux’s were harsh in disowning Emerson. They forced him into an arranged marriage with a LeBranau as a political move and then because of their embarrassment over the whole murder charge disowned him.  Their collective guilt over believing Misandre over their own son is still obvious today.  I wonder if it is because of the mess with Misandre or because he made them rich after the fact. Anyway, while in the mines, he discovered the Kaprosian natives were treated appallingly by their LeBranau administrators.  He escaped with the help of his Kaprosian crew and created havoc for the LeBranau, Dellacroix, and Rossenal families who were the primary owners of Kaprosian slaves in the mines.  He laid the groundwork for the consortium by including friendly human families and Kaprosians in the organization of his network.  They eventually broke LDR Holdings Ltd by destroying their ore haulers and defense ships.  Emerson left the flagship to direct the battle himself and did not return.” Winter sounded far away, and her voice was soft.

“You were there.” I knew I was stating the obvious, but Winter nodded anyway. I had a sudden epiphany.  Winter helped coordinate the battle and probably had a lot of influence on Emerson Boudreaux. No wonder L’Marchonase had instructed Narellian to contact Winter if he saw himself as her spiritual great-grandson.  He already knew from somewhere…a family memoir probably, what she had accomplished with Emerson and what her role had been with John Trafalgar’s outfit.  “You said yourself you weren’t related to them, so…”

“I’m not, but I am.  I can’t let Emerson’s grandsons die because they did not have enough experience with Bildarthian weaponry.  I can’t do it.” She looked at me directly and she had that intense expression in her eyes.  “You can though.  You can walk away.  Take the Fred, go wherever you want.  But, know this, Ellora Grace, whatever you run from will eventually catch up to you.  Trust me.  I know.”  She bent her head and began entering commands into the navicomp as her couch moved around to face the main screens. 

I recognized the star system she programmed as it flashed up on the screens.  “Ualune. You’re sending me back to Ualune.” I blinked at her in disbelief.

“Well, you can change the registry of the Fred there and probably find a new crew for any freight hauling enterprise. Unless you’d like to go to Altamira?”

“Uh. No.” She wasn’t looking at me, but I had the strangest feeling, almost like a premonition she knew exactly why we’d avoided Altamira all these cerens and she knew who and what I was.  It was the crawly sensation on the back of my neck and my arms, the same ones I had during my visions that stopped me from commenting further.

“All right then. Let me get my gear.  Fred, transfer all command codes to Ellora Grace.”  She stood up, wobbled a bit, and grabbed the back of the chair to steady herself. “I’d avoid Rangolin, Parchense, Dar-est-tellat, and Cahraehn, because Darryl left them hanging and they’d take the Fred in a heartbeat no matter who owns him.” She made it to the door. “Oh, and avoid Chimdee and the Hiden at all costs. Chimdee’s the Hidese homeworld but their influence is everywhere.  Never get involved with them if you can possibly help it.” She started to walk out but poked her head back in. “Our passenger in the hold should probably be taken to a free Hashtaaleen colony if you can find one.”

I was out of my chair and running down the hallway after her. “Wait! A passenger? Why in the seven hells didn’t you tell me!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The child in the strangely designed pod was hardly more than an infant, at least that is how it looked to me.  Winter opened the craft with an external keycode and peeled back the covering on the pod so I could look at the face of the sleeping baby.  “Is that…?

Winter nodded. “We call them Frost Children.  In the latter stage of the war, desperate Hashtaali parents gave their children up to the hibernation beds.  Scores of them were smuggled off Hashtaal with many of them ending up on Finral’s or Darbulatan.  Such was their parent’s desperation that they knew they were condemning their child to a life of slavery.  But life as a slave was better than death.”

Not the best rationale, I thought, but then I’d never experienced anything remotely like it so I should not make judgments on a people long turned to dust.

“This Frost Child was found in the wreckage of a ship.  It had been purchased by …well, an important personage from The Realm as a companion for its own child, provided it could be thawed and make a viable playmate.  Someone found out about the purchase and re-directed the capsule to me.”

I stared at her. “And why would they do that, Winter?”

She shrugged. “I did a favor for some old friends.” She turned to leave the hold. “Probably as good a  reason as any to avoid The Realm for a while too.  There could have been media coverage of the theft since these old capsules are also considered archeological artifacts.  I understand some museums would like to acquire relics like these.” She strolled out the door.

“Winter!” I yelled at the top of my lungs.

“Yes?” She poked her head back in the hold with alarming speed.

“Fred, are you listening?”  I was sure he was, he just hadn’t commented

“Yes, I am Ellora Grace.”

“Good. Then I want this on record.  I am a pragmatist.  I think Kerlian-Pertumit Garundi doublecross to be a hare-brained suicidal caper thought up by two schoolboys with romantic notions of grandeur. I also recognize that you, Winter, have absolutely got me by the short hairs.  I have no idea where to find a free Hashtaaleen colony, I cannot go to Altamira, and I can’t thaw this kid out and raise it. So, I guess the Fred, and myself will be staying for the duration of this insane caper, may Oberonae bless us and keep us from getting killed.”

To her credit, Winter didn’t smile or acknowledge she’d outmaneuvered me.  Instead, she nodded.

“Fred, belay the warmup. Shut down engines and reattach us to The Silver Siren.” To me, she said, “Keep the command codes. I’ll be in my cabin.”

I got the impression I’d passed a test of some kind.

Pertumit Garundi 7

I’d like to say jump was a pleasant experience, but it really wasn’t. I always come out of the jump feeling like something died in my mouth and I’d run the parsecs between Altamira and Ualune. I kept restoration packs in the side compartment of my chair, but even the stims couldn’t shake all the fatigue. Winter, though, seemed not to feel the effects of the jump. She is basically humanoid, so you’d think she would feel some of the effects, but if she did, it was not obvious to me.

I must clarify and say that my race goes back thousands of years before the S arm of the galaxy was settled by the tribes of Ancient Terra. We hid among the human explorers, those brave souls who lived on generation ships. As an educational assignment given to me by my father, I once had to calculate the basic position of where our old homeworld should have been, and how many light years it would take just to make it to the nearest star. Our people have long life spans, but humans? Humans exist in the blink of an eye to us. The Hashtaal was also a race with exceptionally long-life spans. Truthfully, I am not sure of Winter’s age. She appears to be a humanoid woman in her late third maybe the fourth decade, so about twenty standard cerens older than me. I’ve learned you can tell a being’s age by their eyes. Winter’s eyes are old, maybe older than my father, and he’s easily three hundred cerens.

We reached K’Pix and found a navigational buoy broadcasting on all channels. Winter cranked around the ancient antennae we have on the Fred and asked him to discern signals.

I frowned. “What are we looking for exactly? It seems like this is a dead end.”

Winter shook her head. “L’Marchonese will bury a signal within a signal. We just have to find which one of these…ah…Here we are.”Where there was static only a moment before, a holo message formed on our screens. The stereo logo was a holographic laughing humanoid skull. A few seconds later a set of coordinates flashed onto the screen and Winter rapidly input the combinations into the navigational computers.

“We’re jumping again?” I don’t know why I bothered asking. Fred had already spun our vanes to full and the engines were registering full charge. Winter only glanced at me and shrugged before hitting the acceleration control.

We exited just beyond the heliopause of a system that had two gas giants and four planets. One of the gas giants had thirteen moons. All of them looked scorched as if a massive fire had rolled over them at some point. As we angled our way in, another ship appeared off our port bow.

Fred interrupted my musings. “I have multiple signals coming from a ship in orbit around the second moon of the primary giant.”

“Take us in, Fred.” Winter stood. “I suggest you get cleaned up. First impressions matter among this bunch. Keep your weapons hidden. No sidearm.”

Frankly, I am not sure how she would know such a thing, but I went with her wisdom on the matter. I decided to pull my hair up, and rather than elaborately braid it, keep it at a bun at the base of my neck. I can hide all kinds of sharpened hair ornaments and still conceal the handle of my short sword into the collar of my dress white ship suit.

I don’t know who created our suits. I know they were designed for functionality first and flash second. Our suits have multiple pockets, some concealed so if you wanted to carry a weapon or explosive, you could. The fabric is blindingly white with brilliant azure piping at the seams and mandarin collar. I wear two turquoise lines beneath Fred’s logo above my left breast which indicates I am the comm officer. I’m also the galley slave and tableware cleaner but there’s no rank for that. Winter wears three azure bars and as of late, a gold star is pinned to her collar. In spacer parlance, it means she’s the acting captain. I worry someone will catch on to the “acting” part and ask hard questions about Darryl.

I hope Winter and I can keep our stories straight if someone should ask.

I put my concern into the back of my thoughts as we crossed over to the main ship. L’Marchonase’s flagship was a huge monstrosity bristling with guns, vanes, and a ship engine Fred would lust after. From my casual inspection as we were brought aboard, his ship had been a massive luxury yacht, probably Realmese, maybe Arcadian in the registry. It had obviously been converted to a warship, with the ancillary flotilla of ships acting as freight haulers. I wondered if he’d been taking cues from the ship familias and never bothered to make planetfall anywhere.

Once, in a moment of sheer boredom, during one of those infernal etiquette lessons my father insisted upon, I looked up the Ship Familias and their origins. In my ten cerens as a spacer, I’ve only seen one SF ship, and it was The Sovereign of Palencia. The Sovereign was a massive ship, I mean truly massive. I can’t imagine how much Kieren energy it must take to power it. Like many deep space stellarships, it was ovoid, and the hull was tinted mandarin orange, to stand out against the blackness of space. They also had a flotilla of smaller ships, some of which could make planetfall. The Sovereign is owned by the Valencia de Talamantes family. I know they deal mainly with manufacturing equipment and farming implements. I hear they dabble in gun-running, but I do not know that to be true. I do know SF’s have a closed culture, and outsiders are not welcome. My understanding though is each SF has a different set of values and the only commonality is they don’t take in foreigners.

There are other SF’s of course, the largest ship allegedly belongs to the Paloma group. The Ramiriz Lira Lleida de Paloma familia owns The Paloma Blanca. I’ve never seen it, but I have heard tales of it.

I was brought out of my musing by the red-suited guard at the end of the airlock. Winter calmly presented a fingercard and the lead security woman passed it through their reader. It chirped, and she nodded at us to proceed.

I want to say the interior of the ship was opulent, but I grew up at court, so everything is a step down for me. I realize that’s a bias of mine.

We were led to a lounge area with a room spanning loa wood bar tended by three humanoid bartenders and one robotend. Uniformed staff, apparently not affiliated with the crew by virtue of different shipsuit colors, circulated with drinks and canapes.

“He’s not hurting for money it seems.” Winter passed on a glass of bubbling wine offered to her by one of the turquoise-clad attendants, but I snagged a stem from a passing server.

“I guess. If that loa wood is real and the carpet is authentic auransilk, then yeah, doing well, I suppose.”Winter and I continued to look around, both of us assessing threats and assets.

Winter gestured with a finger and then scratched at her head, dislodging a curl of platinum hair. I glanced up. There in the ceiling was a monitor, that probably recorded everything.I sighed. “Ya know, Fred would probably love to find out the name of his decorator. Will you ask?”

Winter nodded. “Yes, because all these shades of aqua and turquoise, especially with that long curving seating arrangement and those clever sunburst cushions really pull the room together, don’t you think?”

“And the amaranthist colored treatments over the windows are just divine.” I sipped my drink and pretended to be impressed.

Winter smirked. “I think we should check out the rest of the room. No telling what treasures we’ll find.”She wound her way through the lounge, and we reclined against the bar for a few minutes before a scarlet suited attendant with a silver chevron on her arm stopped in front of us. She saluted briefly and handed a fingercard to Winter.

“Captain Oran, Captain L’Marchonase would love the pleasure of your company for a small conference in five standard chronos.”

I raised my eyebrows. Winter nodded at the crew member. “Would you be so kind as to point out the ladies ‘fresher facility? I should have just enough time for a visit.”

“Of course.” The crewmate bowed, nodded to me, and gestured for Winter to accompany her.I sipped my drink for a chrono or two before casually heading in the direction of the fresher. As in the casino, I glamoured myself, waited until the door was opened, and followed Winter’s distinctive hair all the way over to a roped-off area.

I recognized L’Marchonase immediately from his holos and bounty wrappers. He stood when Winter entered and crossed from behind the table to greet her. I concealed myself behind one of the gaudy purple drapes and extended my hearing. Eavesdropping is not a habit of mine. Neither is using my ability to track sound, as too much can hurt. I do have sensitive hearing, so I like the quiet of our ship, and the volume controls on Fred.

I consider this ability to be not terribly useful and a hindrance most of the time. But, when among thieves, cutthroats, and liars, it might be a good idea to keep in concert with one another and where an electronic listening device could pose a problem. I presume Winter figured out I’ve sat in on conversations before. If she knows, she must not have a problem with it, and I am certain she would tell me if she did. She can be blunt about her dislikes.

I did not hear the first part of the conversation and as it was probably pleasantries anyway, I would not have missed much. What did I hear made me raise my eyebrows and study L’Marchonase. Apparently, Winter knows him from somewhere other than Narellian.He gestured for her to sit on one of the azure wingbacked chairs, which she did and calmly faced him.

“Are you finally ready to give up on that volante carisarka, and come home? Really, Winter, the best you could do is come back to the family that cares for you.”

Winter laughed, which is more of a chuffing sound than anything. “The volante carisarka is dead. I own the Fred outright now.”

L’Marchonase lifted a stim cartridge to his lips and inhaled. He blew out fragrant smoke and snorted. “She owed me money. What’s to say that ship isn’t mine now?”

“Because you don’t want to alienate me. I came here interested in your enterprise. You already know what my skill sets are and how I can ensure the success of your campaign. You already know I don’t hunt down those I nominally call friends.”

“Fairelawn. Was that your handiwork?” He sat back in his chair and studied her.

She shook her head. “Someone else staged a robbery and gimped the station.”

“Elaborate for an assassination, don’t you think? Or did your Hidenese friends help there too?” He narrowed his eyes.

Winter tilted her head.“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

L’Marchonase stroked his salt and pepper chin. “I know the Hiden wasn’t happy with his business dealings and felt they’d been cheated in a few of his transactions. I also know the bounty on him, and his paranoid security force placed him in the impossible hit category. You’re the only professional I know who would take a suicidal contract like that.”

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about. My crewmate and I did pull a scheme to hex the tournament, but that’s all. We made enough for food and fuel, but not a year at Kell Station living in one of the bacchanal suites.”

“You’d rather let me believe your presence there was only a coincidence?” He glowered at her.

She sighed, “Enri, believe me…”

He picked his glass up, drank, and slammed it down on the tabletop. “Don’t. Don’t lie to me. For the sake of my great, great, great grandfather, don’t lie. He let you keep your secrets even though it has been readily apparent over the years he knew you didn’t tell him everything.”

Winter stood up and folded her arms across her chest. “Good luck on your campaign, then. I wish you well. The Fred will depart within the hour.” Her tone was glacial. She turned to leave.

It was L’Marchonase’s turn to sigh. “Winter, forgive me. Every time the Hiden moves against one of its own, it creates a power vacuum. People I counted on with this venture are now squabbling over territories and supply lines.”

“I have no doubt you can spin it to your advantage.” Winter regarded him coolly.

“Probably. Eventually. And when the ultra-paranoid chucksan calm down. But now…” He gestured toward the bar.

“They drink your best vintages and complain.” Winter retook her seat

.“Exactly. I was hoping Narellian, would pass the word to you, as I can use your help.”

I had to give him style points for re-directing the conversation. The accusations struck me as ridiculous. Honestly, did he think she could be in multiple places at once? And who was this person he said was killed? A thought flitted through my head but wouldn’t stay still long enough. I gave myself a mental shake and continued listening, although the rest of the conversation was not nearly as interesting. L’Marchonase spoke in a way that gave me the impression he considered himself family to Winter, but not close enough to be directly related if that makes sense? L’Marchonase and his crew seemed to be from the Yeltsin consortium, most likely Arcadia. He had a pronounced Yeltsenese accent although he was tall for a heavy-worlder. His explosive epithet nickname for our departed captain would indicate…well, our captain had a fair number of enemies. Perhaps he considered himself family to Winter through her? I knew some of the pirate clans from the Yeltsin sector of space considered themselves all members of the same extended family so that would make sense if Darryl and Winter worked with them before I joined the crew.

They spoke for a few more chronos, although Winter didn’t comment much, and he sounded less like he was trying to persuade her to go along and more like he was placating her, which struck me as odd. When she remarked on his color scheme for the lounge, I knew that was my cue to disentangle myself from the drapes and head back to the main salon.

I was chatting with the ship’s surgeon when she found me. He’d attached himself to me shortly after I emerged from the ‘fresher. I found out a few things I didn’t know, such as the ship was called The Silver Siren and was the eighth ship in the L’Marchonase syndicate to hold the name. When Winter turned up, I’d let him talk me into a tour of the ship’s bridge, medical facilities, and the gallery. He bowed to Winter, and acted like he wanted to say more, but bowed again and left.

Winter seemed bemused. “Learn anything?”

I shrugged. “ A history lesson and your reputation precedes you.”

Her expression became unreadable. “Ah. That. Well then.” She shook her head. “L’Marchonese is holding a general meeting of all captains, firsts, and quartermasters in the main conference in roughly thirty chronos. Let’s find the buffet table first. I have a feeling this will be a long meeting.”

My stomach liked that idea.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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Pertumit Garundi 6

Winter peeled out of the envirosuit and disappeared briefly into her quarters.  She emerged a minute later carrying her ship suit and boots.  She yanked the suit on as she walked, and by the time she got to the flight deck she was only one boot away from being dressed.  She took a wipe from her suit pocket and began roughly removing the makeup from her face.

“So, this is your handiwork?”  I gestured at the slowly irising space dock doors.

“No.  They’ve been gimped.  Their internal systems are shorting out.”  She took her seat at her navigation station and strapped herself in.

“You don’t think it went as far as to affect their rotation or Oberonae save us, the orbit?”

Winter shook her head.  “I don’t know.  I expect they’ll have a general evacuation order soon.  It should override whatever it is they are doing about the robbery.”

“Robbery?” I frowned.

“Yeah, the casino was robbed.  I presume it is the reason for the hold order.  They are trying to prevent the thieves from getting away.”

She glanced down at her panel.  “When we get clear of here, I’ve heard of a job, but we need to discuss it, and now is not the time.”

I nodded.

“Fred engines to forty percent, and maneuver us toward the exit.” Winter brought up the schematics of the station on her comm panel.  “They’ve got station cannons and standard electropulse batteries along the central ring.  Our deflectors can probably handle it, but the vanes are delicate and don’t like pulse weapons.  So, we are going to have to jump the second we exit.  Think you can handle the torque?”

“Don’t know until I try,” Fred replied. He fired the thrusters and we passed the Corvair.  “I’m extending vanes and started the spin.  We should be ready for a singularity jump as soon as we clear the doors.

I felt more than heard the deep rumble of the jump engines as the vibration carried up through the floor and directly into my teeth.

“KNJ9385 Fred, what in the seven hells are you doing?” The human station master sounded stressed.

“Leaving.” Winter’s reply left the station master sputtering.

“You’ve no legal right to hold up freight traffic.  We’re all on jump timelines that require us to deliver on time or pay station penalties.” I chimed in.

“But the Accords of Navarran clearly state…”

“And don’t apply to freight traffic, as our jump schedule doesn’t allow for it.  If you consulted your legal department before making the order, then you’d understand that.  The way I see it, you’re going to let us go, else I will be filing a disruption of service claim against Fairelawn, and all the docking penalties, berthing fees, and any additional legal problems we incur because of this will be billed to you.  You sure you want to go through with this? Our next stop is Altamira and you know how they are on punctuality.” Winter activated the video feedback to the station and stared at the station master.

“Captain Oran, you have our sincerest apologies, but…”

“Fred, bring all mains online, and brace for departure,” Winter spoke calmly and held eye contact with the station master.

“You’d blow a hole in us, just to get some trinkets to Altamira?” The station master sounded incredulous.

“I just got my ship ledgers back in the black.  I don’t intend to incur more debt, while we sit here and wait for you to figure out your problems.” Winter folded her arms across her chest.  A station aide came up to the master and whispered something in his ear.  He visibly paled.

Winter cut the audio feed and turned her back to the lenses.  “My bet is they just figured out they have a more serious problem.”

I shrugged.  “I’ve not heard of a station gimped in a long time.  I thought they’d managed to stop the last cartel of gimpers.”

Winter shook her head. “Someone’s found a way around their security protocols.  Bound to happen sooner or later.” 

She turned around and spoke to Fred.  “How’s their iris, can we fit through?”

“They are at sixty percent dilation.  We should make it to the end of the tube by the time they hit seventy-five.  We will fit through, but barely.”

“Try not to scrape anything on the way out” Winter sat down at the navicomp position and began programming the ship for jump.

I watched the coordinates scroll across my screens.  I ducked down so the lens wouldn’t pick up my lips moving.  “That’s not Altamira.”

“No, it’s not.” Came the serene reply. “Fred, bring vane spin to full.”

The station master sent a flag that played across both our screens.  “You can’t jump inside a station its…”

Winter opened the audio and cut him off mid-harangue. “I’ve no desire to blow the arm of the station.  But we are leaving, and that is final.”

I looked at the aft screens. “The Corvair and the other freighters are in line behind us.”

“The captain of the Corvair is insane.  They will be fired on.  Diplomatic privilege doesn’t extend that far.” Winter shook her head.

“Sounds more like desperation to me,” I muttered.

“Right now, station security is trying to figure out how they were gimped.  That means that Corvair is a prime suspect.”

I pulled the additional jump straps across my chest and plugged them in.  I took a deep breath, just to make sure I still could.  The straps adjusted which was a relief.  I wiggled around trying to get comfortable before my seat automatically reclined. 

“You think so?”

Winter ticked her ideas off on her fingers.  “First, the last gimp cartel was from Navarran.  They used Navarrani ships to smuggle their gimper krewes on and off stations.  Second, some of the ships claimed ambassadorship, which prevented them from standard search.  Third, that Corvair has some non-standard modifications.  Look at its engines.”

My screens tilted to follow the motion of my seat.  I glanced at the aft cameras.  “I don’t see anything.”

“Magnify and look at their vanes, you’ll see accelerant chambers feeding into the engines.”

“Huh. I thought they only used those on racing ships” I ran my fingers over my magnification controls.

“That Corvair is designed for racing.  I expect it will blow past us before we can create our singularity.  It will have to outrun their guns, and any fighters they send after it.”

“So, you think a new krewe is on that ship?”

Winter tilted her chair back and adjusted her screens.  She directed her chair to swing around parallel to mine so she could look over at me. 

“No.  I think the krewe is on one of those freighters still in dock.  They’ll wait while all the drama plays out and quietly leave with the general evac order. I think the Corvair is probably somebody with no desire to get involved in any of this. The Navarrani ident is likely a forgery.”

“Gods above and below what a mess.”

Winter just nodded and frowned at her screen. “Almost there.  Gently, Fred.”

I switched my screens from aft to the forward projection.  In front of us, the station’s docking tube was slowly opening out into space.  Orange flashers indicated it was not fully open.

“Seventy-two percent irised should have greenway any moment,” Fred reported.

Winter connected her halo to the mainframe and grimaced.  I tried piloting the Fred one time and the flow of data was difficult to parse. I had a tremendous headache for days afterward.  I had no idea how Winter managed it except there is a distinct difference in our biology.

The flashers went to yellow, indicating the doors were nearly wide enough to permit small craft to pass.  The Fred isn’t exactly little.  Fred is a heavily modified Hermeion class light freighter with an aerodynamic design that allows us to make planetfall, unlike most freighters.  The Hermeion class was retired from service more than 150 standard cerens ago.  Before that, they’d been quirky at best.  Most of their AI’s achieved sentience, dumped their crews, and left for parts unknown.  Fred, while sentient, was certainly affable.  I got the impression Winter may have altered some of his base programming before he became self-aware.  In the ten cerens I’ve been on the ship, we’ve rebuilt the engines twice, replaced the sublight alternators, changed the vanes to a premium brand, and countless other small modifications.  Winter has been on the ship twice as long as I have, and I got the impression she and our “late” captain made many more modifications that I’m not aware of.

“Seventy-four” Fred intoned.  The countdown to jump flashed across my screen.  “I’m reading lots of small craft converging on the exterior,” I said.

“Oh, so they are going to fight us.  Shields up, Fred.” 

“Shall I bring weapons online?

“Yeah, plot a firing solution for a line of sight only.  I really don’t want to have to shoot someone down.” Winter tapped a control and our attitude shifted slightly. 

I pulled the targeting visor down over my head and took up the stick in front of me.  Fred fed me targeting solutions for multiple inbound craft. 

“Seventy-five, greenway, captain.”

“Project and fire if anything gets in the way.”

We veered up sharply as we exited the tube, our vanes punching a hole into subspace in front of us. We dove through the hole as fighters converged on us.  Winter snapped the cutoff and the hole promptly collapsed behind us.  My teeth rattled for a few minutes as Fred whipped us through the fabric of space. We came out a chrono or so later just beyond the Fairelawn system heliopause.

I blinked and brushed sweat off my temple.  “Well, that was interesting.  What are we doing out here?”

Winter tiled her chair and screens down and unstrapped herself.  “We’re waiting.  Give it an hour and we can see if Fairelawn blew up or not.”

I nodded.  The strange part of subspace time dilation means we can watch the battle we were briefly in, but not in real-time.  Whatever happened back there at Fairelawn would have to catch up to us. 

“Fred, find the DS buoy and attach us to a sixty-degree tether.” Winter yawned.  “I need a shower.” She walked off toward her quarters. “Call me if it gets exciting.”

I waved my hand at her and settled down with a book tab to wait.

An hour and a half later, the main antennae started filling our screens from other DS buoys and some closer in that got a good look at the battle.  I watched as Fred burst from the docking tube and disappeared. The Corvair dove sharply and ran for the station’s central axis, broadcasting a distress call all the way.  The freighters lumbered out of the docks and were fired on.  The Halcyon freighter took some damage and blew up a couple of their fighters.  They generated a singularity too close to the right arm of the station and took part of it with them when they jumped.  The Yeltsin ore hauler moved away from the station, but by then it was obvious that the station’s rotation had stopped.  Multiple blisters broke away from the ship as life pods were jettisoned from the failing station.  The ore hauler moved back and started picking up pods.  A large superliner and ancillary ships appeared in real space and the Corvair was fired upon and hit.  It limped to the superliner and was tractored aboard.  The superliner, instead of offering aid, promptly generated a singularity and vanished into the black.

“Well, that was nice of them,” Winter commented.  She was still toweling her platinum hair dry. 

“What happened to the pink?” I gestured toward her hair.

“Eh, was temporary.  Did you get a good look at that superliner?”  She pointed a finger at the screen.

“The one that picked up the Corvair? I couldn’t see the registry numbers.”

“Fred, go back and magnify.”

Fred dialed back to the appearance of the liner.  “Hmm. No registry that I can see either.  Just that odd symbol on the hull. Do you see it?”

I squinted at it.  “I thought that ship was registered to Navarran.  Not sure what picked them up though.  I don’t recognize it.

“Hmm.”

We watched in silence as the station evacuated. At the one-hour mark, other ships began appearing, in response to Fairelawn’s distress call which was all over the comm channels.  We watched for another hour as the station was pulled to orbital safety by multiple tractor beams from the larger ships. 

“Looks like the gimp wasn’t entirely successful.  They got their reactors back online.” Winter commented.

I sighed.  “Surely we aren’t sitting out here in the great cold and dark just to watch the show.”

Winter tilted her head, and smiled with just her lips, never showing teeth.  “We are waiting for a package.  It should be almost here. Fred, magnetize the hull.”

I raised my eyebrows but said nothing. Winter returned to her chair and brought up a system schematic I’d never seen before.  The fact that I’d never seen it before wasn’t new.  There are hundreds, if not thousands of systems in our arm of the galaxy, not counting Furian’s Maze.  I know most of the stars of the official trade routes, and common transit points, plus a few that are off the new navigational charts, but this one was a trinary system just outside of a gas cloud.

“Why are we looking at…” I had to glance down at the nav panel on my left. “MX 997265 K14?”

Winter looked up and smiled that same closed-lip smile.  When I think about it, she always does that, smiles without teeth, I mean. 

“This is K’Pix.” She pointed to the holo on the mesa top.  “It is one of the nearer stars of a constellation known as M’anitanth, among my people. It translates to the Nomad in standard. There’s a rendezvous of all ships interested in a campaign led by L’Marchonese.  Narellian said he heard it was going to be a big gathering for an enterprise that has the potential to be very lucrative.”

“Really? He did? Usually, Narellian keeps his bigger scores to himself.”  I snorted.  I should point out that Narellian was a businessman slash bounty hunter slash sometimes gun runner we dealt with on occasion.  He is also from Hashtaal, which is why Winter talks to him.  He’s one of the other races from the planet. He’s humanoid, but with amphibian characteristics. 

Winter has not said a lot about her home planet, but from offhand remarks, I gather that there was a hierarchy and strict caste system on Hashtaal.  Narellian would have been from one of the upper classes.  Amphibianoids like Narellian apparently were the most common of the races inhabiting the planet. 

In case you aren’t familiar with the legends about Hashtaal, let me tell you what I know.  I know that it was an ice planet with deep water oceans teeming with life.  I know the Amphibianoid and Orcanoid races inhabited huge underwater cities.  They were the ones that developed spaceflight.  Winter’s people were considered the bottom caste.  They were tribal surface dwellers who lived on the polar landmasses.  They interacted with their aquatic counterparts, but I get the impression there was a lot of isolationism. 

I know that Narellian can be snobbish, and secretive, so his telling Winter about L’Marchonese and his sallie was a bit unusual.

“So, why did Narellian tell you?  Is he hoping we’ll try to find out more and pass it along to him?”

Winter shrugged.  “Probably.  He’s too chuksa to go himself because he owes L’Marchonese money.  But, he wants to know what’s going on because it sounds like a big venture.  If it pans out, he wants us to pay him a finder’s fee.”

I laughed. “Not in seven hells would I pay that sojoni chuksa a red centavo.”

Winter nodded.  “Me either.  I suspect it’s dangerous though and probably illegal.  We can investigate it further if you want, or we can head for Ualune and see if we can find a decent freight job.”

“What are the odds it’s genuine?” I idly used the antennae to scan the nearer space around us.  The DS buoy continued to transmit Fairelawn coordinates and shipping lane information.  I couldn’t hear any ship traffic. 

Winter pursed her lips and appeared to mull the question over before responding. “L’Marchonese has a reputation of bringing in big hauls.  He doesn’t go for anything with unnecessary risk which is why this could be worth it.  We could go to the rendezvous and hear him out.  Chances are he’s just trying to drum up support for a venture.”

I nodded.  “That’s fair enough.”

“Okay, we’ll go listen to what he has to say.”  Winter no more got the words out of her mouth when a loud thunk caused the ship to vibrate. 

“What in seven hells…” I brought up the outside monitors and started examining our hull. 

“That’s probably our package.” Winter was up and moving down the starboard passage before I could say anything. 

“Fred, did that dent the hull?”

“According to my calculations, the object was not moving with enough speed to critically impact the hull.”  Fred sounded calm.

I scanned the hull for microfractures anyway.  Winter manhandled the object, which resembled an ovoid life pod, only smaller, into our holding section using the freight crane.  She shut the outside bay doors and I felt the pressure increase in my ears.

She came back to the bridge a few minutes later and reseated herself in the navigation chair.

“So, K’Pix?”

Winter nodded and I braced for jump.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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That Pertumit Garundi Thing (working title)

I woke up, and instantly regretted it. My crew jumper was wringing wet and I was soaked to the skin. I lay there on the hard plexisteel floor shivering and wondering what in seven hells happened. My head was next to the waste portal and the smell of sick was nearly overpowering. I tried to sit up, which was a mistake. My head was about to split open from the pain and I swear I could feel cerebral spinal fluid leaking out my ears and nose. I managed to push myself upright and lean my aching head on the ice cold plexisteel wall. My hair was sticking to my face. I tried to push the strands away from my eyes but my hair was hard, crusty, and nearly immovable. Chunks of some squishy substance came off in my hand and the smell…

Ugh.

“You are alive, then?”

I squinted up at the speaker. A tall Avonry perched on the only available bunk. Its voice was shrill, even through the vocoder it wore. It preened its feathers and appeared to lose interest in me when I didn’t reply. Somewhere, a clanging started and got louder as it came nearer. It took me a second…a long second to figure out what I was hearing. Metal on metal, growing more echoing and pronounced. The Avonry moved back and as far away from me as possible. The noise became unbearably loud and I put my hands over my ears, grimacing in pain. In my haze I looked up and a uniformed figure appeared. The figure was using something to hit the metal bars in front of me.

“Oyyeh! Princess! Time to get up, shatovahf!

A blast of ice cold water splashed over me, soaking me again. I cursed and sputtered. The Avonry squawked and flapped itself spreading feathers everywhere. I coughed until my throat felt like a blazing pyre. Bleerily, I watched as the hazy figure opened the metal bars. The Avonry squawked and backed up into the corner of the cell. The gendarme stood over me, then reached down and yanked me to my feet.

“Come on. Some folks want a word with you.”

The uniformed gendarme threw me face first into the ‘fresher. “You stink. Get cleaned up. You’ve got 3 chronos.” He marched out of the room and I tried to re-orient myself. I found the soap and tried to clean my hair as best I could. I was spraying off the collect grime on my coveralls when the gendarme reappeared. He threw a towel and a clean, unmarked ship coveralls at me.

“Move!”

He turned and stomped back out of the ‘fresher and I took advantage of the towel and suit. I rolled my soiled one up, in a vague hope it could be recycled. It bore the name of my ship, well, one of its aliases anyway. Mister charming in a uniform showed up with my pack three chronos later. He shoved it at me, and I dug around in the bottom for an ampule of painkiller.

New Banner photograph

No Two Are Alike
by Laszlo Ilyes
Licensed under Creative Commons 2015

The Hunt for Christmas 1978

I’m sitting by the fireside, the Yule log burning brightly and typing this on my phone. I usually use my laptop, but leaving the fire unattended might be asking for a disaster.

The smell of the pinion logs is fragrant and heavenly, although there was quite a bit of trash in the bottom of my chimnea, so I’m probably inhaling plastic fumes as well. Ah well. The scent takes me back in time, 1978, or so, when my parents and I spent Christmas in Santa Fe. This particular road trip is a post unto itself so I’ll tell that story some other time.

This story is about my dad. He purchased from Dowling’s, one of the first boom boxes ever made. He probably paid a lot of money for it. It had Dolby sound and the ability to record cassette tapes. One of the first things he did was to slip a 30 minute TDK blank cassette into the recorder on Christmas morning

He recorded the now infamous tape, labeled Christmas 1978. All it was, was a collection of Christmas music from KKNG King Stereo 92. KKNG at that time was a classical station. Every Christmas, they did a 72 hour program of classical or close to classical Christmas music.

For years, I listened to this tape, as it was my go to Christmas music. Dad recorded a couple more through the years, before KKNG changed it’s format. But, I have every part of it mostly memorized, even if I did not know the names of the artists. I can even remember a station break that the announcer made. He said, “Merry Christmas from King Stereo 92. It’s 36 degrees at 8:30.” That was 8:30 am by the way.

When we moved across the country, I thought I brought the tape with me, but it disappeared. My husband managed to locate Christmas 86 but the music on it was more modern as it was the last Christmas KKNG did a Christmas program. So, I was sad. My dad died in 97, the year I got married. It was a memory of my dad, wrapped in jazz guitar and orchestral music.

However, on occasion, I would hear one of those songs somewhere. I can remember the guitar one played up at a cafe in Winter Park. I tried to find out the artist then with little success.

Jump to the present and the magic of YouTube content creators who took their old LP’s and uploaded the audio to their platform. Thanks to them, the version of Santa Claus is Coming to Town played by a finger picking jazz artist is none other than Tony Mottola, who recorded it in 1975.

This success led me to search for other songs I knew were on the tape. One such discovery led to a medley by the Hollywood Pops Orchestra who played Up on the House Top and several others combined.

I kept looking and listening. I remembered a beautiful choral piece that begins “When blossoms fall into snow upon a winter night… I first found the Mormon Tabernacle Choir’s version but a more in depth search finally turned up the older recording.

I remember the version of Carol of the Bells was a bit scary. The French horns carry the middle of the song until the strings come blasting in with the “gayly they ring while people sing songs of good cheer Christmas is here.”

Because I am writing this outside tonight, next to my little fire, I don’t really have access to my playlist but I think I’ve found the majority of them. I know there is one that eludes me, as I can hear a fragment of it in my head but not enough to identify it. It is frustrating to have my memory crap out like that, but one day, in the shower probably, it will come to me.

The tape was only about fifteen minutes on each side, which means three to five songs on each side. Plus, there were station breaks but no advertising. So, there were pauses that took up space on the tape.

I am proud of myself for remembering what I have. Being able to put a name to the artist after all these years is satisfying. I admit crying when I found Tony Mottola. That jazz guitar has haunted me for years.

It is a wonderful Christmas memory and if I can, I will link some of them to this post.

Merry Christmas 🎄🎄🎄

“

Pertumit Garundi 15

Winter took the reader and plugged it into the Fred. “I’ve got a captain’s meeting shortly.  We’ve decided on what ships will attack and when.  Basically, we’ve created two teams, splitting the fleet.  One team harasses the Pertumit Garundi, and the other the Kerlians.  Both teams bring their cargos and ships if they can steal them to us and Diargento, as senior quartermaster will work out the payment to the crews.”  She ran a hand through her hair. “I hope Fred can find something in this data or we’re going to need to be very creative.”

“Very creative” was Darryl’s way of saying we were going to have to make it up as we went.  I never liked Darryl’s idea of creativity as it usually had me hanging upside down off something or out in zero-gee, floating in reverse.  I’m not a fan of inversion at all.

“So, how did Diargento manage to get himself appointed senior quartermaster if he’s already captain of a ship?”

Winter shrugged eloquently and loped off the bridge.  “Do you want me to come with you today?” I yelled after her.

“Stay with Fred. I’ll handle it.” Her voice echoed off the deck plates.

I decided, after a run-in with the Siren’s newsie filters, to go clean our antenna dish of the carbon scoring it got in our last firefight. Normally, this was a job Winter did in zero-gee but since we were anchored to a deck, and I was bored out of my mind, it was as good a time as any.  I’d seen Winter clean it on the cameras so I felt confident in my abilities.  She’d already disabled the contraband com line, so all I had to do was crawl up the service hatch on the upper part of the wing.  I took a scraper and some solvent with me and hoisted myself up, walked up the wing mount and up over the top of the bridge cabin.  It would have been easier to do in zero-gee, but I had nothing better to do. 

Fred’s antenna is an antique.  I have no idea why Darryl would have wanted to install this archaic and unsightly thing, except it works so well I wonder where she found it. The signal discernment is amazing. The oval-shaped design sticks out like a sore appendage from the sleek hull of The Fred.  I’ve not seen anything like it before, and the only reason I know it was installed aftermarket was because Merriloo told me.  She used the signal tuner to find her favorite entertainment applications on a buoy bounce.  Fred told me the shows she watched made him nauseated, and he’s an artificial life form so I can believe it knowing her.  Anyway, I was up there scraping away when I noticed a stamp on the metalwork. I cleaned it up as best I could, but as I said, the antenna is old much older than Fred.  I cocked my head and scrubbed harder.  The language looked familiar but strangely written as if the letters were bent and distorted.  It almost looked like Hashtaaleen but it wasn’t.  I tried sounding it out, but my knowledge of Hashtaaleen isn’t very good.  I did take out my reader and holographed it to show to Fred.  I finished what I was doing and then crawled back down the top of the ship and into the service corridor.

Fred was working on breaking the encryption when I got back to the bridge but I persuaded him to take a break for a moment to realign the antenna so we could get a signal past the mag shield on the landing bay.  We were still out past the heliopause of the Garundi system and I wanted to use their signal buoys to do some piracy of my own.  I showed him the holo and he ran it through his translation matrix.  The best he could come up with was the word, “Palatan.”  Palatan didn’t come up in any registry for a modern shipyard but there were a lot of smaller ship forges out there.  He didn’t indicate what language he thought it was, and truthfully, he was distracted by the decryption so I left him to it.

My own bit of piracy involved trying to figure out who the Trangee people were.  I’d never heard of them and apparently, most of the galaxy hadn’t either.  I’m no hexbreaker, but I can look at media images to discern glamours.  Really good casters like myself can fool the eye but there is always a tell in images. I am extremely careful, arrest record notwithstanding, about allowing myself to be holographed.

Glamours, as it turns out, blur images.  Most beings will think, “Oh, mechanical failure on the part of the holographic mechanism.”  Only those who know about glamours would know it’s not a problem with the holography.  A few casters of my kind can make themselves invisible to any light spectrum analysis, meaning they don’t show up at all in pictures.  I wondered if the glamour user I ran into was a Trangee although he seemed like a changeling to me.  Changelings are a thing of legend among my people.  They started out as Violeteer but something either environmental or psychological changes them and they become evil.  I’ve always thought changelings were my people’s version of a ghost story so running across a being fitting the description unsettled me.

I swung the antenna around and pointed it in the right direction. I programmed the Satcom to look for local newsies with information on their system of government.  Since we were on the other side of Garundi, I had to use their feeds and long-distance sounder buoys to patch into the sat network on Kerlian.  Sadly, this is not a quick process and neither of these planets is close to the center of our arm of the galaxy.  In the relative distance, I suppose they are closest to Nayrystel but there is a good deal of space between here and there. This end of the arm is relatively barren of habitable worlds and Nayrystel is only a transfer point sitting above a gas giant.

To give you an idea of how far away we are from civilization, if the jump gate at Nayrystel malfunctioned, and every ship lost its ability to generate a singularity, it would take a thousand cerens to reach Ualune provided the ship could travel faster than light.  I hoped no catastrophes of that scale would happen while we are out here at the nowhere end of the galaxy. 

I had the gee-bees and I needed to stop scaring myself.  So, I concentrated on reading, checking up on Fred, checking the Satcom, and snacking on cheese cubes I’d purloined from Marion.  Eight solis went by before I decided to check in on Winter. I found her on the command bridge watching L’Marchonase pace back and forth.

“Watch station check-in Winter.  Meeting adjourned?”  I popped another cheese cube into my mouth and chewed.

“First mission out and back.  Picked up a Kerlian freighter bound for the transfer point.  Still getting a report on her cargo.” Winter rubbed her forehead and stretched her neck. 

“Anything good?” I tried to sound cheerful for the benefit of who else might be listening to our com.

“Don’t know until Diargento’s inventory.  I’ll be in soon to check on Fred.”  She quirked her mouth in a half-smile and signed off.

The first question I asked Winter when she showed up a quarter of a soli later was, “How come they didn’t bring the cargo here to sort?”

Winter looked disgusted.  “Because Diargento gave a rousing speech to his crew and backed Enri into a corner. So he had to let the count happen on the Juni-daiie’s landing bay floor instead of ours. Diargento’s a piece of minhari chuksa and he’s a manipulative jagi, I have to give him credit.” She flopped down onto her navigation cradle and sighed.

“Did you eat?” I asked, knowing she probably hadn’t thought about it.

She shook her head.  “Been working.  Has Fred gotten…”

I cut her off.  “He’s still on it.  I’ll get us food.  It will take time to count every bolt on a stolen ship so let it go for now and let L’Marchonase worry about it.”

The great part about being in the landing bay was the ability to hook up to the food synths.  I managed us a decent meal of tsilii stalks in a mantaquil sauce, chevron noodles in sernay cream, and toasted panne.  Winter went through her ritual of taking the choicest bits out of her food and placing them on a separate plate.

“You do that out of respect for a deity or is it a cultural practice?”  I may have commented with a mouthful of noodles but she understood me.  She looked up from her plate.

“The Goddess Mehariet is the patroness of the Hashtaleen people.  As her servant, I am honor-bound to provide the best parts of my meal as an offering to her.” Winter shrugged and stuffed a stalk into her mouth.

“The Violeteer believe Oberonae and Dantiana want us not to starve.  As such, they do not accept offerings of food.” I raised my sticks and showed her the large, juicy noodle before placing it into my mouth.  I chewed and swallowed.  “Speaking of which, do you mind if I find an unused corner and set up an altar?”

Winter shrugged. “Not at all.  Do what you need to do. The Fred is your home just as much as he is mine.”

“Thanks.”  I took another bite and swallowed. “Does Mehariet require you to do penance or is asceticism just a lifestyle choice?”

Winter stopped eating and looked at me.  She frowned.  “For me?  A bit of both, I suppose.” She shrugged. “Mehariet is a goddess of mercy and healing.  When I am worthy of her, I guess I will know.”

I nodded and said nothing else.  I learned a long time ago not to get into discussions of comparative religion with other beings unless it was an academic discussion.  Winter must have read my mind, though.

“Wars have started because of differences in religious thought.  Mehariet’s teachings say all beings are the same in her sight, meaning your Oberonae and Dantiana are no better or worse than she.  My beliefs will not conflict with yours.”  Winter nodded to me and went back to eating.

“Mehariet is very egalitarian. Out of curiosity, was it a difference in religious thought between the Hashtaaleen and Bildarthia?”

Winter stopped chewing and looked at me.  “Not that I know of.” She speared another stalk and put it in her mouth.

My curiosity got the better of me. “Do you know, though…I mean, what started the war?”

She stopped eating and folded her hands in her lap.  Her head went down and popped back up a few seconds later.  Her eyes became glassy and I thought to myself, Oh chuksa, now I’ve done it.

When she spoke again, her voice was soft and heavily accented. “No one really knows why they attacked us.  Perhaps it was the trade for verango and our learning to grow it ourselves.  Perhaps it was the scarcity of shurent root which led them to believe we were holding back reserves of it from them. Maybe it was our arrogance and self-reliance that prompted our nearer systems to ally with them instead of us.  In our innocence, we did not realize we made enemies of them because we failed to understand how trade alliances with other alien races should work.  We made many grave mistakes and should have listened to our own people, the Landers, who possessed a listening device and could hear them plotting against us.  We should have taken their advice and strengthened our planetary shield.  We should have tried to understand our enemies and our friends better.  But most of all, we should not have alienated ourselves from within and without.  The caste system should have been abolished and we should have made stronger attempts to make the other races of our planet understand we were all under attack.  Instead, I fear our true enemy was not the Bildarthians, but ourselves.”

She stopped speaking and looked back down into her lap.  After a long silence, she picked up her utensil and began eating again.  I didn’t know what to say so I said nothing and continued eating.  We finished the meal without speaking and she got up, placed her bowl in the recycler, and left the bridge.  My Satcom pinged so I went to check on my project.

Luckily for me, they ran newsie snippets about their system of government.  I gathered they were ruled by a triumvirate but those three individuals were backed up by a parliamentary-style group of representatives from all over their planet.  I was surprised to learn the Kerlian resembled striped candy if the candy had three sets of eyes and wore a crown of flowers on its head.

The Viseur, the Glazier, and the Pronseci were colorful.  The Viseur wore orange and white stripes with a crown or crest of orange protrusions.  The Glazier had a curved head resembling a fern. They were a brilliant shade of scarlet.  The Pronseci was a riot of colors and the crest on their head fanned out in all directions for at least a faren.  Of the three, the Pronseci seemed to be the affable one.  It gave speeches, posed for newsies, and preened for cameras.  The other two struck me as secretive and furtive and even though I knew they were up to something, I would have thought it from just how they acted.  In a segment on their advisors in parliament, I caught no less than four blurred images, which told me there were four glamor users who had insinuated themselves into Kerlian’s system of government.

I also got my first look at a Trangee.

They were tall, well over eight or nine farens. Bipedal with leathery gray-green skin, they had elongated heads and two sets of eyes.  Their arms were overlong and reached well past their leg joints.  The joint of the leg was backward of that of a human, Violeteer, or Hashtaaleen.  They had holes in their faces, presumably to breathe but no nose to speak of.  Their mouths were the stuff of nightmares, with sharp upper teeth and a lower jaw that folded outward bearing tusks.  I honestly didn’t know what kind of alien I was looking at, except the Glazier introduced the tallest one as a member of the Trangee.  The universal translator on the broadcast stumbled over the word, and I got the impression Trangee was the name the Kerlian gave them, but probably not the word they had for themselves.

I printed out a color holo of the creature to show to Winter, knowing if they were new to her, we were dealing with a total unknown. 

Four ship days passed before Fred finally broke the encryption. 

“Whoever created this helix code knew what they were doing.” Fred sounded oddly disconcerted. 

“Why? You sound like you don’t like something about it.” I was chewing at the time but fortunately, Fred is used to my eating habits. Fred paused so long I started to think he’d not heard me.

“AI systems like me can create codes like that.  So, there has to be another AI in L’Marchonase’s fleet somewhere, except all, and I mean, all, of the ships are analog.  To me, this means there is a cybernetic life form somewhere.  I’m spending my free time strengthening my system ramparts to prevent an attack, should the life form decide I’m a threat.”

“Wait, you think there’s a sleeper onboard one of the ships?  In their systems or somewhere else?”  I put down my cup of cafco and started running additional system alerts.

“I’m not certain.  I might be able to track the code signature but that may alert it and see us as a threat.” 

“Did you tell this to Winter?” I started working on the ship fire controls since an external attack might implant additional command codes in the fire and armament sections causing us to blow ourselves up.

“I’ve only now reached the conclusion, Ellora.  Winter is currently on the bridge watching the Juunich-schrie take down a Pertumit ship.”

“Great. Well, everyone is distracted at least.  Would you look for any medical data on Valoise and a possible cybernetic? I’ll see if I can pry Winter loose.”

When Winter returned, I remembered the holo of the Trangee.  Truthfully, Winter and I hadn’t seen much of each other in a few days.  She’d been busy overseeing the refinancing of several ships badly in need of repairs.  The sale of the Kerlian goods to the Pertumit, and the reverse had a reasonable profit margin.  She was also in charge of the sale of additional hijacked goods going through Nayrystel to various systems beyond it.  I knew spare technologics were going to Altamira. I knew there was a planned retrofit of several larger craft, particularly their medical facilities.  L’Marchonase’s crews were some of the healthiest pirates I’d ever seen.

I showed the holo to Winter and she studied it for a long time.  Finally, she looked up at me.  “I’m not sure.”

I sat down at our galley table across from her.  “What do you mean?”

She poured herself a glass of water.  “Meaning the name Trangee is unfamiliar, and while I see some resemblance to a race I know, I would need to see more of them to make a comparison.” She shrugged.

I cocked my head. “What race you know?”

She gave me an odd closed-lip smile. “A companion to the ancient enemy thought to be extinct.”

“You mean the Bildarthians.” I studied her but saw no trace of the glassy-eyed stare.

“It may be nothing.” She waved her hand in a throwaway gesture and took a sip of her water.

“Fred, do you have anything for us?” I prompted him to speak although I knew he monitored our conversation.

“I have information on Valoise.  He has Mordance disease, which has progressed to the point where the capillaries of the eye are stained purple.  He is wearing a lens to protect the eye from further radiation damage.  Mordance disease is terminal.  The purple, blue, and red staining on his cranium, maxillary sinus, and across his lower jaw are indicators of the organism eating his muscle tissue beneath the skin.  He has undergone treatment for this disease on Kell and in The Realm. He has the tattoo to cover obvious signs of the disease.  It is advanced enough that without continued medical intervention, his mortality rate would sharply decline.  As it is, he is past the stage for a significant intervention and he may only have a ceren or two left before he dies.  Eteria is his girlfriend although I would use that term loosely.  She also has Mordance disease, probably picked up the organism from him and did not detect it in time.  She does not have the skin staining he does, and hers seems to be in remission.”

Winter spoke up. “Fred, what is Mordance disease?”

“Mordance disease is a caused by a parasitic organism common on worlds where swamps and brackish water proliferate.  The disease caused by the organism is difficult to detect and does not affect other aquatic life forms.  Humans are particularly susceptible.”

“Does the medical notation indicate where they might have picked up the organism?” Winter had a strange expression on her face.

“Both have participated in slave hunts on Darbulatan.”

Winter nodded her head. “Mehariet has her revenge then.”

“I thought she was the Goddess of Healing and Mercy” I piped up.

Winter shook her head. “Only to the people of Hashtaal.” 

Fred spoke up “Remind me not to get on her bad side.  Mordance has nasty side effects in humans.  Valoise and Eteria probably do not have much of a relationship.”

I frowned, “Why do you say that Fred?”

“Hmm? Oh, other than the skin discoloration, other side effects include mood swings, hair and vision loss, and male performance issues which may be exacerbated by alcohol or drug use.  His is the only ship in the fleet to have an Officer’s Club catering to the appetites of his crew.  The information indicated he captains his ship from a table inside the club.

Winter nodded her head again. “That would make sense.  I heard he keeps to his ship most of the time when they are not actively working.”

“I found an area of scrubbed code that I have been working reconstruct…” Fred stopped.  “Ellora, I think I found our cybernetic.”

“What?” Winter looked alarmed.

“You did?” I couldn’t contain my enthusiasm. “Where?”

“Start over. Cybernetic as in a cyber form?” Winter sat down her cup and grabbed her reader.

“Yes. Ellora and I discussed the possibility of an AI creating the encryption which is why it took me so long to break it.  None of the ships are run by AI that I know of, which leaves a cybernetic life form as the creator of the code.  We already knew that individual and weaker encryptions were scrubbed and misleading information may have been planted.  I see where there is information on Diargento’s medical history, mainly his eye.  But, his entry has been deleted and re-written.  Whoever or whatever erased his information does not know much about ghost data.” Fred sounded smug.

“Let me see!” Winter demanded.  I watched as lines of code and patches scrolled across her reader.  “Chucksa shuushuneki, I wish Darryl could see this.” Winter sighed. “She’d be impressed.”

“I know I was. But, this also means we’d be wise to shore up everything in my mainframe and use closed systems as much as possible from now on.” Fred sounded concerned.

“You think this cybernaut would come after you?” Winter glanced at the bridge panel where Fred physically resided.

“Would either one of you tell me if I should be worried or not?”  I reached into our meager alcohol stores and poured myself a shot of brandimelon liquor. 

“Yes.” Both Fred and Winter spoke at the same time.

“Great.” I downed the drink and poured another.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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My Father’s Fishing Rod

Well, I’d have to cover the signature with brown painter’s tape. You see, my dad had a customized fly fishing rod, and the manufacturer kindly placed my father’s handwritten signature on the side. Do they even make brown painter’s tape? I know there are blue and funky green colors, but I’ve never seen brown at Lowes. Maybe if they make brown painters tape then time travel would be possible?

Why would I go through all that effort? I have the rod. My father has been dead for over thirty years now. But, I read in one of those blogs, (Popular Science, IFL Science, one of those) that time travel IS theoretically possible. And I may have already done it.

Theoretical science is a bit Meh about three types because it is likely you could, by traveling back in time, create an alternate dimension. You exist in the alternate dimension allowing you to interact with the past but you cannot change it in any significant way. In this instance, the parallel dimension would allow me to move a salt shaker sitting on the dining room table in my parent’s house, but I would not be altering the future because the salt shaker is inanimate. I could, theoretically, hold a conversation with one or both of my parents, but because their timeline is fixed and I am in a parallel timeline, I can’t alter their timeline but I can interact.

Let me explain. The theoretical physicist said we had three concepts of time travel. One involves the paradox, wherein you travel back in time via negative proton displacement. (Uh, okay, let’s leave out the practicalities for now) You change something in history, such as killing Hitler (Let’s Kill Hitler, Dr. Who episode), and thus change the course of human history and possibly prevent your own birth. Or, you travel back in time, but everything is fixed where you bear witness to events but are powerless to do anything other than watch. Meeting yourself might not cause the ultimate paradox and your head does not automatically explode.

So, I can’t go back in time and suggest to my father that he should invest heavily in Apple or that the Cubs finally won a World Series in 2016. But, if I knew the exact date, time, and location, I could go chat with him about absolutely nothing. And yes, I would pay money for the opportunity to talk to my Dad.

What if? What if I’d somehow managed it? What if that feeling of deja vu is nothing more than our future selves returning to the past to talk to ourselves. My father once told me he’d had a strong feeling of deja vu the first time he walked into the gymnasium at his high school in Michigan. He could not explain how he knew the place, only that he did. The gym turned out to be a significant location for my father. His gym teacher was an asshole, who informed my dad that he and his cousin, Richard, were trash and that they’d always be trash good for nothing jailbirds. This teacher pissed my dad off to the point that when he graduated with his medical degree, he wanted to go find that teacher and show him the diploma. But, you see how this gym became a place that ultimately changed the course of my father’s life?

What if he was able to go back in time as an adult and somehow reassure himself? This might explain the deja vu if he had a perfectly innocuous conversation with an adult that felt strangely familiar.

When I search my memories of my childhood, I remember a feeling of familiarity too. When I was roughly 10 or 11 years old, we spent two weeks every summer for about four years in Red River, New Mexico. So, I was approximately 13 the last time we went up there. We spent those two weeks in a cabin owned by another doctor friend of my dad’s. It was a nice cabin, built for skiing vacations in the winter. But, the house was vacant in the summer, and I guess the friend was concerned about squatters, so we were charged with making it look inhabited. My dad wanted to fish, and the river, (which honestly isn’t much more than a largish stream) was stocked with rainbow trout.

It had to be 1979 because I remember listening to Cheap Trick’s Dream Police album over and over. Anyway, the cabin had no television and only a party-line phone for emergencies. So, my options were to read or go fishing with my dad. I had pictures of us, dressed in waders and carrying creels full of trout. I remember I wore a red, white, and blue striped short sleeve sweater, and my hair was cut like Dorothy Hamill’s. On me, it looked like a mushroom cap, with goofy bangs. Anyway, I remember, vaguely, a couple that joined us down at the low water bridge over the stream. They stick out in my memory because they really didn’t seem like fishing people. She had poofy blonde hair, was fat, and carried a fly fishing rod. Her husband seemed older, balder, and walked with a cane. She huffed and puffed along like she’d been running and her husband trailed along behind her, seemingly bemused by something. Strangely, I don’t remember much more about them, except that they were extremely chatty. Well, she was anyway. She spoke to my father for a bit about fishing and that she’d not been fly fishing since she was a girl. I remember she seemed to not know how to cast out either.

I didn’t pay her much attention, and she was more interested in taking pointers from my dad. Because it was innocuous, and a bit inane conversation, I tuned it out and went back to daydreaming. My dad pulled me away, wished them luck, and we tromped into the woods downstream. He said to me, out of earshot, “They’re just churning up the water. They’ve scared off all the fish.”

I remember seeing them upstream of us through a clearing and thought they might be following us. I think my father must have thought so too because we soon left the stream, walked down the road, and headed for the meadow. We caught a lot of fish that day which made my dad happy. I got the impression we were in bizarre competition with the other fishermen to catch the most.

I remember seeing the woman again at another low water bridge as we left for the day. Around four o’clock the heavens would open up and a deluge of rain would fall. It did this every day, and you could practically set your watch by it. I think she yelled at my dad and asked him if he caught anything. He held up his creel and said it was full. She gave us a wave and that was the last I saw of her. I know we hiked back to the cabin at a fast clip and I thought at the time it was to beat the rain, but on further consideration, maybe my dad did not want them to follow us.

I don’t know why he was unnerved by them, but I think he was. Now, I suppose this could be a creepy encounter with a couple who seemed out of place in the woods. Maybe I remember it because it was kind of odd. Maybe I forgot most of the exchange because I was just a kid who lived in the clouds most of the time. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe my child self was not that unnerved because I was brutally naive.

Or maybe some part of me recognized my future self. Maybe she introduced herself as a cousin? I don’t remember but the coincidence would be in and of itself unusual. Maybe my father recognized the fishing rod in her hands. He had yet to commission it, but I could see where he would admire the design. Maybe he noticed the reel and recognized it as his own. I thought they were nice people who really had no idea what they were doing. But, something about them spooked my dad.

I look in the mirror and I see an overweight woman with blonde hair and I wonder. I haven’t yet visited a thrift store to find ill-fitting late 70’s era clothing. I don’t know how to generate negative protons or know how to operate a time travel device. Perhaps that is in my future, where I can return to that point in time, huff and puff my way across the low water bridge, past my soon-to-be teenaged self, to talk to my dad about everything and nothing.

The hardest part will be to not break down in tears. I know I can’t do what I’d want to do, which would be to throw my arms around him and say “Daddy, Daddy, it’s me! I’m here and I love you dearly.” No, the hardest part will be to make an innocuous conversation while I know I am somehow making him uncomfortable. It will be terribly hard not to run after him and my child self, as they scoot off into the woods. My memory of that path to the other low water bridge is extremely vague and I would probably get lost.

The hardest part will be to let them go knowing what I know. But, that is the problem of parallel universe time travel. I wish I could tell myself to cherish this time with my father, that time is always shorter than you think. But, I already know I didn’t and couldn’t anyway. All I could do is stand on the riverbank, with his rod in my hand, with the name covered up with painter’s tape, and talk about the weather, if the fish were biting, and the prospect of rain.

Pertumit Garundi 14

I almost felt the sensation of Winter’s seething anger as she stalked across the landing bay.  I practically had to run to keep up with her.  The Fred made use of the interior of the Siren alongside the fighters, stingerships, and drones.  While it was certainly convenient to be inside the larger ship, I always worry about attacks that disable the launch capability of any ship. I don’t like being stuck inside, I guess.  If we were still on the umbilical, it would be nothing for us to detach, fly over, attach ourselves to Sausenty-Une, and beat the chucksa out of her captain.  I assume we’d go through ship protocol to launch from inside and then there would be questions. 

I thought perhaps we’d use a more subtle approach. Darryl wasn’t one for subtlety and frankly, although I’d been a crewmember with Winter for a while, I wasn’t sure what she’d do.  She stomped up the ramp to the Fred and headed for the bridge.  She flung herself into her seat in front of the navigation array and sat there staring off into space.  I sat down at my station and waited.

“Do you know why the Ebroni moved from Ebrak Seran and into the Ebrak Tlelat section of space?” Winter’s question caught me by surprise.  I shook my head.

“I have no idea.” I thought her question odd, but I tried not to show it.

“When they were known as T’altachurians they refused to come to the aid of Hashtaal.  We had been trading with them far longer than the Bildarthians so their reluctance was bewildering to the leaders of my world.  They’d been fed lies about my people and believed them without ever checking to see if the stories they’d been told were true.” She tapped her fingers on the wrist guards on the sides of her couch.  I wondered what this had to do with our current situation.

I waited for her to continue.  She stared at the wall panel so long I thought she’d gone to sleep with her eyes open.

Finally, she spoke again. “The irony is the T’altachuri left their section of space and rebranded themselves as Ebroni because trade fell off dramatically after the war.  There aren’t many races capable of spaceflight in Ebrak Seran.  It’s an old sector of space and civilizations born thousands of cerens before the Hashtaal collapsed long before the Hashtaaleen war.  When the Bildarthians defeated us, they also packed up and left Ebrak Seran, leaving T’altachuri to fend for itself.”  She turned her couch to face mine. “A corpient can hide its barb, but the barb is still there, and it will use the barb because it has to eat.  A T’altachuri is still susceptible to suggestion and gossip even if they call themselves something else. The fundamental nature of the people has not changed even though they moved.  They can make noise about paying reparations to the governments of Finral’s and Darbulatan all they want.  But” Winter’s intent expression became fierce, “They still believed and spread stories about Hashtaaleen monsters who will eat children. They do so, to this day.”

I sat there in thought.  “So, we make the Ebroni woman believe something heinous about her friend Valoise, is that what you think?”

Winter pursed her lips and shook her head.  “Not something awful.  Killing innocents and blowing up the houses of parliament create a positive reputation among this crew.  No, we need her to believe he’s done something nice.” Winter’s smile was unpleasant to behold.

“Anno…how do we do that, exactly?” I idly pushed the button activating the front screen showing the port cameras.  The bay darkened with the beginning of the alterday shift. 

“Well, one of the advantages of being in one of the bays…we are closer to the Siren’s mainframe.”  Winter’s smile chilled me to the bone.

“There’s something I should tell you.” I blurted. I hadn’t intended to tell her about the Ni’chine but… “They were headhunters…the Ni’chine I mean.  They had three Hashtaal and one of my people.”

She studied me for a nano.  “They were stupid chuksa.” She said, flatly.

Yes, I thought, yes, they were.

~~~

If L’Marchonase thought Fred circumnavigating his central computer’s mainframe security just to serenade Winter was extraordinary and troublesome, he was about to discover a whole new level of security breaches. Winter and I took off the panels in the floor of the bridge of the Fred, where his main “brain” was located.  From there, Winter set about conversing with Fred and (I presume) changing subroutines so he could sneak his way into the personnel files of the Siren.

“Since this is a pirate ship, would they have files on their crews?”  I held a simbronex spanner in one hand, and a brace conduit in the other.  Winter and I crammed ourselves into the small space made for maintenance on the ship’s computer systems.

“Enri strikes me as someone who keeps meticulous notes.  I would not be surprised if he’s kept a record of all the ship captains in his fleet along with their strengths and weaknesses.  He didn’t become Grand Captain of this lot without having information on them and how to blackmail them if it came to that.  Enri may come off as affable and effusive, but he’s definitely related to Emerson Boudreaux.  He also has Emerson’s sense of humor.”  Winter twisted her mouth into an almost smile.

She waved her hand at me and I handed her the spanner.  “So, we’re essentially breaking into his files. He may not like you much after this.”

She made a rude noise with her mouth. “I’m doing him a favor. He can like me or dislike me all he wants.”

I shrugged. “Alright then, but I’m sure breaking into someone’s private diary is a sure-fire way to anger them.”

“I also want to know if Diargento writes information down.  Probably not, but it is worth a look.” Winter pulled another interior panel off and tinkered with the inside.”

“Why do you think he doesn’t?” She handed the spanner back to me and took the conduit.

“He doesn’t need to.  He remembers every bit of information he’s learned about the people he’s met, including you and I.”

I chewed on my lip and contemplated the unsettling thought of Diargento knowing anything about me at all.

“Eh, chances are he knows me by reputation, but not much about you. I doubt he knows you aren’t human.” Winter finished and screwed the panel back on.

“You figured it out.” I followed her up the ladder out of the maintenance bay

“I worked it out a long time ago. Your reflexes are too fast for a human, and you have far better accuracy with those knives than a human would.  You use glamor to cover up the parts of you which you don’t physically disguise like your eye color or the tips of  your ears.”  She shrugged, walked over to her acceleration couch, and sat down. “Your eyesight is excellent without the circular frames you wear. At first, I thought it was an affectation, but it is part of your disguise, isn’t it?”

I hauled myself out of the shaft and stood.  “Did Darryl know?”

Winter shook her head. “If she did, she didn’t care.  I didn’t tell her. I will say, Your Highness, the bounty wrapper on you has decreased considerably in recent cerens.  Did your Father finally get the message?”

Inwardly I winced. Winter could be wicked with her verbal barbs when she wanted to be.  So, I brushed it off and pretended I didn’t care. “Thanks for not turning me in or letting Darryl know.  She would have turned me in, and yes, I think he finally got the idea.”

Winter shrugged. “She might have, she might not.  Like me, she appreciates honesty.”

I sighed. “For a moment, imagine you are me.  You run away from the royal house on Altamira because you believe your father has made a terrible mistake, one you want no part of.  You spend the next three cerens running from his agents who are trying to track you down.  You end up with a bounty on your head from your beloved father, who apparently hasn’t realized the bounty he set can mean alive or dead.  Do you think at some point in all of this, you might develop problems trusting people?” I walked over and sat on my acceleration couch.

“Fair point, but you’ve been on this ship for ten cerens now.  At what point were you going to tell me?”  Winter wasn’t looking at me. She was doing something with Fred’s matrix and lines of code filled the screens in front of her.

“If I thought Darryl would hand me off for the bounty, Merriloo would have dissected me for her own amusement.” I pulled up the com display to the Siren on my screens just to have something to do.

Winter nodded her head. “Merriloo is the reason I don’t let anyone examine me.  I don’t need some half-chuksa xenobiologists deciding they need a Hashtaaleen sample for their collection. So, what you say makes sense. We’re going to need one of their com cables and run it through Fred’s mainframe.”

I nodded. “How are we going to do that and make it look inconspicuous? We’re on the other side of the hanger from the com array.”

She tapped her fingers on the armrest of her couch.  “I have an idea, but I don’t think you’re going to like it.  I’m going to remove the exhaust plates on the underside of the ship and connect them to the vents on the floor of the bay.  While I am doing that, I am also going to remove the maintenance hatch located directly under the right aileron.  I need you to climb down into the hatch, go around the vents, and crawl all the way across to the com panels on the opposite wall near the array.  From there, I need you to either patch us in or snake a line all the way back to the ship so we can connect up. I would do it, but I am too tall and distinctive-looking. You, however, can use your glamor to hide if necessary.”

I sighed. I always got the job of crawling through the body of a ship.  My height was a distinct advantage in wiggling into small places.  I just hated doing it.  To disguise my discomfort I said, “Out of curiosity, how do you know there is a hatch under the wing? 

Winter shook her head. “Enri has modified the Siren to his liking, but this ship is Emerson’s old flagship. I thought I recognized it when we came aboard the first time.  He’s gutted most of it, but this landing bay is essentially the same as it was three hundred cerens ago.” Her expression became wistful then resolute. “We’d best get to it.”

I was halfway down the gangplank before I remembered to ask. “Winter, how did you keep Merriloo from vivisecting you?”

Winter, who was ahead, turned around to face me. “She got an up-close and personal display of what of these do.” She opened her mouth and pointed to her canine teeth. “It made her think twice.”  Winter smiled, then turned around and marched down the gangway to the floor of the landing bay.

~~~

It never ceases to amaze me how a ship can prepare for every kind of technological attack possible but forget about simple string and sealant putty approaches.  I put in a cable patch to their com network by snaking a line through the electrical maintenance conduit.  I disguised the line by pushing it into the gaps between the interlock of deck plates.  The com panel itself was placed in an oddly shaped alcove which clearly hadn’t seen much use.  Winter explained to me that back when Emerson owned this ship, each fighter was connected to an external com panel until needed for action.  It was set up so the mainframe of the Siren could talk to each fighter’s onboard computers individually.  The alcove was constructed for a prototype fighter who never saw action. 

I asked her if she knew where the prototype was and she shrugged her shoulders. “This ship has seen a lot of owners since Emerson stole her.  It’s probably space dust by now.”

I poured myself a cafco and watched her as she directed Fred into the mainframe of the Siren. I asked her where she’d learned to break into computers, and she shook her head. 

“I didn’t.  Darryl was an oldtimer codehexer and she programmed Fred with the basics.  Fred’s sentience allows him to make real-time patches, covers, and splices.  I only give him general directives such as desired outcomes.  He does the rest.”

“I enjoy a challenge, Ellora” Fred chimed in. 

“See if you can find Enri’s notes on his personnel.  He might have a personal encryption on it.”  Winter cracked open a stericase of rations and tore the wrapper off a protein bar with her teeth.  To me, she said, “You might want to read a book or something.  This might take a while.”

I watched for a while but eventually took my book tab and reader to my quarters.  I checked the bridge with the remote interior camera before I went to bed and Fred was still working.  Winter appeared to be in one of her trances.  She was staring at the bulkhead wall, and I could see her lips moving slightly.  She had a glassy-eyed stare, and her hands and arms were moving like she was directing something I couldn’t see.  We were still anchored to our landing pad and Fred couldn’t take off without alarms sounding so I left her to her silent ballet and went to sleep.

At the beginning of alterday the next day we finally had a breakthrough.  Fred found the pages on Valoise and the Ebroni woman whose name was Eteria.  Winter studied each of them intently.  “Find anything?” I sat my cup of cafco down on the table across from the central information terminal and regarded her.

“They both have gambling addictions and like to spend their off-duty time either drinking on Taverna or on Kell Station. He’s had an affinity for Morpheus, one of those designer drugs the Hidese market as a sleep aid, but it’s used to combat stim use and too much can cause an addiction unto itself.  She likes her designer clothing and has spent most of her credits with the Paloma Group.”

I sipped my drink and thought. “I suppose we could start a rumor that he’s giving money to the poor while he’s asleep so he doesn’t remember it…and she’s giving her old clothing to charity houses for them to resell for needy orphans.”

Winter shrugged. “Or we find a way to interrogate Diargento who probably knows everything about anyone in this fleet.”

“What do Enri’s notes have to say about Diargento?” I took another sip from my cup.

“His entry has been scrubbed.  So, someone’s been here before us.” Winter ran a hand through her hair and sighed.

“I have an idea.” I grinned at her and she raised her eyebrows at me.

~~~~

Marion slept like wood in the forest.  He snored too which is why I was awake in the middle of ship’s night.  Fred created a miniature com port for my reader so I could tap into the medical files of the ship crews.  Every ship had its own doctor, but I figured with Marion as the primary physician for the fleet, he’d have copies from the other ships.  I felt a trifle…uncomfortable taking advantage of him like this, as he had been nothing but kind to me.  However, I also knew if Winter and I didn’t find a weakness in Diargento, Valoise, and Eteria we could be in worse trouble.  The process was slow as the files had an encryption on them, which I’d never seen before. 

“Mmmpfh…’Lora?” Marion rolled over and I scuttled to the side of the bed and scooted in.  I glamoured the reader and let the port do its work on the bedside stand next to my clothes.  “You ‘wake?” He had a charming bedhead and a befuddled expression. 

“Yes, I’m awake, tshiri, now, go back to sleep.” I stroked his wild tumble of ebony curls and felt him relax against my shoulder. He mumbled something into my armpit.  “Hmm?” I hummed at him.

“You too nice ta be a pirate.” He muttered then snored.

I stared at the ceiling.  Yeah, I’m nice. Chuksa.

I sighed and let him sleep even though my arm felt numb and prickly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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Pertumit Garundi 9

My very earnest doctor’s name was Marion Trafalgar. As we strolled through the ops section of the bridge, and later over a leisurely dinner, he told me about his education as a physician on Syrenacia in the Yeltsin Mining Consortium. Yeltsin does not have a royal family, but his family is one of the more prominent ones within the governance, and L’Marchonase is his first cousin.

We were seated in one of the smaller lounges, watching the movement of multiple ships in and around the Silver Siren on giant screens. “So, what made you give up a lucrative career in the consortium? Why become a pirate?” I stirred my drink with my finger, tilted my head, and gave him (what I hoped was) my most fetching smile.

He laughed, took a sip of his whiskey, and swallowed. “I have a legacy. Enri and I grew up hearing about our ancestor, who was instrumental in unionizing the miners into the consortium it is today. In those days, the human population dominated the Kaprosian miners. The Kaprosian treatment was not equitable, and they were little more than slaves. Our ancestor found out the hard way as he was accused of a crime he did not commit and was sentenced to work in the mines. He eventually escaped and was determined to avenge himself against the mining outfit he thought had set him up. He and his gang stole equipment mining payrolls and was known for spreading his ill-gotten gains around, enough to help miners with smaller claims out and struggling locals. He helped to organize the Kaprosians, so when they finally rebelled, they succeeded. Our ancestor was killed in the final battle, but we grew up hearing about his exploits.”

“Ah, storytime. A bit hard to live up to, don’t you think?” He became more attractive as I drank, so I resolved to slow down a bit on the Kaprosian shandies or whatever it was their bartender tossed at me.

“Enri could have done anything he wanted. But I can’t see him ever wanting to oversee mining operations or run a corporation. It suits him to persuade others to want to join him in some of his more hair-brained enterprises. He’s one of the luckiest individuals I’ve ever met because the crazier the enterprise is, it has a better chance of success. He’s made us rich men. Yeah, we’re outlaws on Altamira, Ualune, The Realm worlds, and a few others, but he has an uncanny knack for taking advantage of unethical situations and unscrupulous individuals.” He sipped his drink and his eyes crinkled at the corners. I decided I liked him.

“You like championing causes then?”

He laughed. “It would be simplistic to say we see ourselves robbing the rich to give to the poor because we don’t.  Not always. There’s a strong element of enlightened self-interest going on, which would negate the altruistic tendencies. Yet, we don’t forget our friends either.”

My turn to laugh. “How very noble of you.”

My perusal of the Silver Siren ended with a visit to his quarters. Like the conference room, his suite of rooms had a long redwood table, although he had an adjacent kitchen and a food synth with an on-demand menu. He also had floor-to-ceiling programmable plasma screens that could show the exterior of the ship, various planetscapes, or my favorite, Idorica, the capital city of Altamira, at dusk.

His sheets were also Parchense museli fiber, the softest you can imagine. His suite reminded me of holos I have seen of the twelve thousand auran a night hotel suite on Kell station.

I am a habitually early riser, so the ship’s clock had not reached 0500 when I stumbled into his ‘fresher and discovered the water shower. I indulged myself and lazed under the warmest setting for a good five chronos before my com chimed. I found a towel (heated no less!) and wrapped it around me. I found my fingercase with my tooth kit and stuck the brush end in my mouth while I read the system message from Fred.

Winter had also not returned to the ship. While not an immediate cause for alarm, it made me uneasy. Fred is used to her idiosyncrasies and knows how to handle them or when to lock her in her cabin when it is not safe for her or anyone else. Fred informed me that he was unaware of her whereabouts and that she had missed her scheduled communication time.

I yanked on my shipsuit as fast as I could when Marion stumbled out of bed and offered to make me breakfast and cafcoca, which I admit was tempting. The shipwide alert suddenly blaring out of every com system in the room made me wake up a lot faster than the cafcoca would, though.

“Fred crewmember Grace, report to the battle bridge conference room immediately!” The ship’s mainframe had a pleasant voice but sounded disquieted.

Fred chimed in less than a few seconds later. “Ellora, follow your tweeter to the battle bridge. You are needed there. It sounds bad.”

I waved Marion off and grabbed my boots from the vestibule by the door. I was tugging them on and waiting for the lift when he pressed a meatroll into my hand and a small thermacup of cafcoca. “You may need it.” He said and waved as the lift doors closed.

I jogged down the main passage, which seemed familiar after last night’s grand tour. I had to dodge early morning on-shift personnel, but the ship had not yet moved into mainday. I wolfed down the roll and followed it with a slug from the thermacup. I was still brushing crumbs off my wrinkled shipsuit when the second lift deposited me onto the battle bridge conference room.

L’Marchonase was standing at the back of the room, his arms folded across his chest. The rest of the room was clear, except for Winter, who was standing in the middle of a floor-sized battle holotank. I could smell the alcohol the second I walked in.

“Oh, chuksa! What have you done!” I snapped at him and skidded to a stop a healthy distance away from Winter.

He shot me an incredulous glance. “What did I do? Nothing. I found her like this.”

“Yeah, well, don’t get too close if you value your life…and keep everyone out of here. She can be volatile when she’s been drinking.”

He nodded and muttered something into his com. I stopped paying attention to him and watched her instead.

She walked in and out of the floor-to-ceiling holo projection of the Pertumit Garundi system and muttered to herself, but it wasn’t in a language I recognized. She waved a glass at something and gestured with it to various points on the map. She held the whiskey bulb loosely in the other hand, and it dripped out of the broken tip of the bulb and onto the floor. She raised her head and seemed to see me, but her eyes held the haunted glassy-eyed stare that she got during her episodes.

I heard from Darryl that Winter had spent two prolonged periods of time in hibernation sleep. The first lasted at least three hundred cerens and the second a little longer than fifty.  Hybersleep capsules, modern ones, are not designed for prolonged hibernation unless there is a reason to need sleeper beds for long-range exploration and the like. Three hundred cerens is bound to scramble your mind for a while, and if someone were willing to undergo that process a second time, well, they must have some pretty big problems if they are trying to avoid them by hibernating.

The manufacturers do not recommend using hibernation capsules for prolonged periods for a reason, and never more than once. Darryl thought her episodes were caused by hybersleep, but the longer I’ve been around her, the less convinced of that I am.

I kept my distance even though I thought I could dodge her if I had to. She has reflexes as I do. If she were human, the speed of her movement would seem unnatural and much like the legends about my people. Keep in mind I’ve seen Narellian in a fight. He’s fast but not nearly as fast as Winter, and I know Winter isn’t a Violeteer like me. My gut tells me she’s something else and perhaps not all Hashtaaleen. So, I feel my wariness is justified.

“Winter!” She flinched at the sound of her name but was otherwise unresponsive. She turned her back to me and muttered something that sounded vaguely like Hashtaali, but to my ears, it didn’t sound right.

“Winter! Speak Standard so we can understand you.” I moved back into her line of sight. Her eyes felt like they were burning right through me; such was the intensity of her gaze. She moved to turn away from me again, and I darted in front of her.

“Speak Standard! I know you are trying to tell us something about this map, aren’t you?” I guessed wildly, trying to keep her in front and facing me.

Her ship suit was torn and grimy. She’d undone the front and tied the arms of the suit around her waist, exposing the thin gray short-sleeved tunic beneath it. The shirt was also grimy, like she’d rolled around in the garbage chute for a day or so. Her knuckles on both hands were bloody. She had a cut on her cheek that was oozing blood and dripping down her chin. She wore her extendstav on a clip at her waist, and the edge of it was bloody. She, or someone, had hacked off her hair. It fell unevenly to just under her chin.

“She’s been in a fight,” I commented to L’Marchonase over my shoulder. “Check to see who’s in your morgue or infirmary.” I moved again to keep in Winter’s line of sight as she made to turn away from me again. I could see other wounds, one across her abdomen, which looked superficial but bleeding slowly. She also had parallel marks on her shoulder. They looked like claw marks to me.

“You’d better check the location of the Ni’chine delegation, just in case.” I had a hunch from Winter’s injuries she might have crossed one of them while drinking.

L’Marchonase spoke up from behind me. “One Ni’chine is dead. The other is in a hibernation pod until my cousin can figure out how to stabilize her injuries. How did you know?”

I darted in front of Winter again as she turned and gestured at something. “Winter! Focus on my voice. Listen to me. What is important about this map? Speak Standard so we can understand you.”

Winter flung her arm out, and the bulb of alcohol went flying. It smashed into the bulkhead and shattered. She slowly sagged to her knees and cradled her right arm with the other.

“Winter! You are injured. Let me check on you. I won’t harm you; you know that. You know me.” I know I was pleading with her a little bit, but the last time I saw Darryl talk her down, she would only let Darryl touch her, but that was not without a lot of hissing and growling. Darryl would repeatedly use her name, and while I wasn’t sure it would help, it wouldn’t hurt either.

“Get me a medipak.” I held my hand out as L’Marchonase rummaged through one of the emergency cases along the walls. “Winter, let me help.”

The medipak slid along the floor and stopped at my feet. I reached down and picked it up. Along with an antibiotic spray, he’d found an anti-inebriate solution.

I kept eye contact with Winter as I slowly approached her. I had no idea if her physiology would respond to the anti-inebriate medication and, moreover, how I would deploy it. Typically, it was a hypospray used in the eyes. I would have to get close to her and force her to look at me long enough to spray it in her face.

There were a few hundred problems with this idea, the least of which would be her trying to kill me. I was racking my brain for anything I could remember about what Darryl did when Fred overrode the shipwide channel on the Silver Siren and began to sing.

Fred does not have the greatest “voice” in the universe, but he does have a respectable baritone and great range. I did not recognize the song or the language he sang in, but the effect on Winter was instantaneous. She cried out and tumbled to the floor in a sobbing heap. I ran to her side and tugged her onto her back. She made no move to resist as she took in great gasping breaths. The hypospray left her blinking, and I could see the second membrane in her eyes close and reopen. It must have penetrated because she began vomiting up the remaining alcohol in her system almost immediately. I had to drag her to a sitting position to prevent her from accidentally inhaling the spent spirits. L’Marchonase, or someone, found her a receptacle, and we let her clear the alcohol from her stomach. I looked up, and Dr. Trafalgar was there with a medical crew. He handed me a blanket, and I tucked it around Winter, partially because she had the shakes and to keep her arms and hands hindered at her sides. L’Marchonase found a chair, and rather than sit in it, and she leaned against its leg. She had her eyes closed, so it was difficult to ascertain if the strange glassy look had subsided.

“Your ship has some interesting talents. But I think he can cease humming now.” L’Marchonase stood back and then began slowly pacing the room.

“Fred, you can stop. I think she’ll be alright.” I muttered into my com.

“When this incident is over, I think you should explain how your ship overrode my ship’s com system.” L’Marchonase did not sound angry. In fact, he sounded curious and slightly alarmed.

I nodded my head because I wasn’t sure myself. My best guess is something Winter programmed into him in case of emergencies.

“Winter, can you open your eyes and look at me? The doctor would like to….”

“No exams. I’m fine.” She croaked and made to get up. Instead, she struggled with the blanket.

“Winter, it is just to make sure the alcohol is completely out of your system.” I scooted closer.

“Water.” She mumbled to the floor. Trafalgar apparently heard her and handed me a careen of water. I handed it to her by the strap, and she took a small sip. She coughed. “No exam.”

“Winter…” I began.

“I said, no exam.” She moved so quickly that my eyes even had trouble catching the movement. She set the careen down, tossed off the blanket, and stood in one fluid movement, leaving me to scuttle back away from her. She opened her eyes, and the strangeness was gone.

L’Marchonase studied her for a moment. “What happened?”

“A couple of the feistier recruits wanted to collect the bounty on me. I dissuaded them.”

“Ah, that explains the injuries. We will review the internal security eyes to verify your story. In the meantime, you gained access to this room and were reviewing the star charts. Would you care to explain why, grandmere”?  L’Marchonase stopped pacing and stood over by the control console.

“Don’t call me that. I’m not related to you.” Winter snapped at him.

L’Marchonase bowed, “As you wish. But you are related to me, perhaps not physically, but spiritually. You knew my great, great, great, grandfather, Emerson Boudreaux or rather, John Trafalgar, did you not?”

Winter sighed. “As much as I try to forget, yes, yes, I did.”

“And you were the one to suggest that he unite the Kaprosians to form the mining consortium it is today.”

Winter cocked her head and glared at him. “It got him killed.”

L’Marchonase nodded. “It did, but he accomplished what no one else had thought to do about an unfair and exploitative situation. The consortium thrives because of what he did.”

Winter snorted. “Posthumously. He would never have liked to have seen himself venerated the way he is today.”

L’Marchonase’s expression softened. “You cared for him, didn’t you?”

Winter coughed, gestured at the careen, and I handed it to her. She took a long sip from it. “I did. What of it? It was a long time ago.”

L’Marchonase stroked his beard and sat down in one of the club chairs ringing the room. “When I sent word to Narellian to ask for you specifically to come to hear me out, truthfully, I did not expect you to show up. I gathered from the aftermath of events that you probably wanted nothing more to do with the Boudreaux family. Except I’d heard your captain left you with serious debt.”

“I’m solvent.” Winter shrugged.

I frowned. We were solvent on Ualune and now Fairelawn, but not anywhere else, at least not that I knew anyway. I thought hard about what I’d heard about the Boudreauxs of Yeltsin. I’d always heard one of their disinherited sons was instrumental in the forming of the consortium. The doctor’s story began to make sense to me.

“I don’t pretend I understand humans. To me, you are all nomads in the night sky, and your logic baffles me. So, no, I have no idea why your many generations’ great father did the things he did, only that they seemed to him to be the right thing to do. In my opinion, it would have been correct to stay with your loved ones, but he did not feel the same way, so there is that.” Winter took another sip from the careen, swished it around in her mouth, and spat it out on the floor. A flurry of cleaning bots scuttled out and moped it up before she sat the careen down again.

L’Marchonase cocked his head. “You think he should have stayed with you?”

Winter made a harsh sound with her mouth. “No. Your many generations mother, that’s who. A sad mess and I am not surprised he became a pirate. He was happier, and I could say more, but as I said, he’s dead, and the truth is less romantic than you think.”

L’Marchonase was quiet for a few chronos. When he spoke again, his voice was soft. “I would like to know the truth someday, though. Will you tell me or at least write it down, so the record is clear?”

Winter sighed and nodded slowly. Her expression changed to one of sorrow, and I thought, for once, she looked her age. But then she straightened her shoulders, and the stoic expression she always wears was back.

“You seem concerned about the star map. Can you tell me why?” L’Marchonase turned on the projection so that the holo generated floor to ceiling. He stood and walked over to the furthest edge showing Pertumit Garundi.

Winter pinched the bridge of her nose and rubbed the tip. I may have been the only one that saw her fingertips come away bloody. She wiped her hand on her shirt, and the blood faded in with the other stains.

“I…” She frowned, shook her head, and walked into the projection. “Would you expand outward and give me a three-dimensional view?” She glanced over at me. “Is there an analgesic in that medpack?”

I rummaged through it and found another hypospray. I handed it to her, and she used it and sprayed a bit into her mouth.

She studied the map. The star of Garundi hung in the air, as did the star of the Kerlian system. “Did you notice this?” She pointed at an area seemingly devoid of stars just below the Garundi system.

L’Marchonase nodded. “The mapmakers did not extend it out far enough. I guess they thought both systems were rather remote.”

“It is not the remoteness, although that is a factor. This broad area here,” She swept her hand along the section of darkness. “Is mined. This is the forward edge of Bildarthian space.”

“Mines? The Kerlians only mentioned they had only two solid trade routes in and out of the area.” L’Marchonase frowned.

Winter swept her hand along the broadsides of both planets in question. “Your primary and secondary routes have to be here because the rest would be too dangerous. Anything else would cross over into their space. Unfortunately, it will be difficult to tell if you have crossed into Bildarthian territory until it is too late.”

“What do you mean?” I had to ask.

Winter directed her attention to me. Her eyes didn’t have a glassy look, but she sounded as she was reciting something. I doubt L’Marchonase noticed, but I’ve known her longer. She pretended to be alright, but she wasn’t.

“They use borath-barillian mines. They attach to your hull, usually in large limpets or smaller microdust clouds. They eat through your ship’s superstructure and destabilize it. The second you charge your vanes to jump, you get peeled like a pelion egg. Or you accidentally trawl through a chain of them. They can mimic your hull signature and fool your repair sensors, so you don’t notice the damage until it is too late. Ask your liaisons from both sides how many ships they’ve lost and where. Hopefully, they’ve kept records. Ambushing their shipments coming or going from either system could be a challenge simply because of the proximity to Bildarthian space. The mines could also have drifted. It depends on how often this section of the border is maintained.”

“Chucksa venerati!” L’Marchonase swore and pulled up other star maps. I watched as Winter slowly began to sag downward. I grabbed her arm and propelled her out of the room, leaving him still cursing savagely behind us.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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