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.

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

As a side note to this story, if you like it, please consider supporting me on Patreon. For a dollar a month, you have access to blog posts, occasional videos, and material either cut from the story completely or material for the next novel. I publish a lot of side material there, so please consider joining me as this trilogy of stories spools out of my head and into my fingers.

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https://www.patreon.com/user?u=24393564 Thank you!

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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.

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

As a side note to this story, if you like it, please consider supporting me on Patreon. For a dollar a month, you have access to blog posts, occasional videos, and material either cut from the story completely or material for the next novel. I publish a lot of side material there, so please consider joining me as this trilogy of stories spools out of my head and into my fingers.

Here is the link to my Patreon account. I hope to see you there!

https://www.patreon.com/user?u=24393564 Thank you!

My next convention will be LEVEL UP in Las Vegas, Nevada. See you then!

Pertumit Garundi 5

You may or may not be familiar with the layout of Fairelawn station. If you aren’t, the station is a triple wheel and spoke design with an interior docking bay that spans the lower wheel. It is one of the older stations, with one of the stable designs. The Realm’s new station over Rangolin, The Helix, is a work of art, but frankly, I have no idea why anyone would want to live there. I don’t think anyone does, and it is just for show because it’s the Realm, and well, it’s the Realm.

Crazy, rich people live in the Realm. Rich is fine; I can deal with that, but crazy…not so much. The central “arm” of the station was incredibly busy. There is always a party on any given “night” on Fairelawn. The Realmese love a party, so the station caters to the Realmese, and any other tourists with enough credits, to spectacles and exotics throughout the central section of the station. I happened to walk through the section joyously celebrating the Fairelawnese harvest. The beings and humanoids around me ebbed and flowed in flowered gowns and masks of scarlet, russet, and gold. A group was singing loudly and throwing orange flores at random. They captured a giggling young woman and poured the flowers into her hair. I glamoured myself into something drab and random in an effort to blend into the floors. I was making good headway toward the docking ring and was almost across the central atrium when I noticed the beings around me were looking up and pointing.

I followed their fingers and shook my head in disbelief. Fairelawn has a massive observational atrium that faces away from the planet and into the surrounding system. From there, you can see Rangolin, Parchense, and if you squint, the star of the Ualune system is faintly visible. The first time I entered the atrium I remember thinking, “how in the seven hells do they keep such an expanse of plexisteel and force screens functioning? Aren’t they afraid of meteor bombardment?” As it turns out, Fairelawn doesn’t use any of that technology. I have to admit when I found out, I was a bit in awe. 

Anyway, I followed the beings around me and looked up. Some chucksa martinara was outside in an enviro suit dancing around like they could hear the music. Maybe they could, for all I know, the station was broadcasting the sambacita blasting from the invisible speakers and the suited individual could hear it. Of course, the lunatic’s actions set off the station alarms in earnest and I had to jog to make it to the docking ring. 

~~~~~~~~~

By the time I reached the ring, the first docking station alarms had started. This means the yellow warning lights start rotating, and everyone starts scurrying for their ships or a decompression closet. Fairelawn has an interior docking stand, and they release ships two or three times a day. The yellow alarm means ships are preparing to depart, and anyone on the docks needs to get to safety. The station has four docking sections, and as they rotate new ships arrive and depart. The system is automated so I’ve never seen them hold up departures although they can. Fairelawn’s AI is semi-sentient. Fred told me about him. I guess they play cheske while the rest of us run around the station. Fred also said Fairelawn’s AI’s a gossip. So, the first thing I did when I got inside was ask Fred for an update and change into my ship suit.

“There are ten active security bulletins, all of them critical. Sections une and deue are in pre-flight checks. Would you like me to start our engines?”

I jogged to the flight deck and started pressing buttons. “Lockdown and seal everything but the primary doors. Start warming up for departure, Fred. We may have to blow out of here fast, so make it quick.”

“Aye, Ellora. Shall I track Winter for you?”

“Yes, please. She’s not in com range.” I flopped down into my chair and checked the supply of nutrients in the chair arm. I didn’t need jump drugs like some species, but I did need to keep my vitamin and blood sugar levels stable during long jumps.

“Would you provide a news update please?” I asked and Fred flashed station vid feed directly to my station screens. “Just a summary is fine.” 

Fred hummed along in my ear as I donned my halo. “Station temperature is holding at..” 

“Fred, skip and look for information about a casino shooting.” I uncoupled the fuel lines and sent the appropriate credits to the dockmaster. I untethered the mooring lines, and the Fred floated free, the repulsors held the ship steady at the dock.

“Fred, get me station control, please.” My screen immediately flickered to the AI shell that ran the docking rings. 

“KNJ9835 Fred, Ualune, requesting permission to depart.”

“Ellora, I find no information on a casino shooting. Would you like me to check security channels?”

I frowned. The commotion at the casino should have been a top news story. “Yes, check security for me.”

I tapped my ear com. “Winter? Are you there?” I waited but there was no reply. 

It is nothing for us to maintain silence after we’ve hexed a casino. Both of us are free to find our way back to the ship in the most expedient way possible. I don’t know how many times I’ve helped Meriloo carry Darryl back to the Fred. I’ve always suspected that Winter was the one that actually ran the Fred, and Darryl captained in name only. I’ve never understood their dynamic, and I’ve been on the ship for 10 standard cerens.

 I’d been fighting a feeling of unease ever since the fight. I chewed on my lip and thought.

“You have instructed me to remind you not to do that,” Fred said brightly as if sensing my worry. 

Station control interrupted my musing. “KNJ9835 Fred Ualune registry.  We are on a docking hold. Please do not proceed to the release doors and power down your systems, please.”

“What? Station control, we’re on a system ellipses. I need to get my shipment on to Altamira, or I lose my payment.”

“Understood KNJ9835 Fred. Fairelawn station will recompense you for your losses.”

“Yeah, at a quarter of value I bet. No, we are not powering down. Release us, or we blow your ring.”

Honestly, it was a bluff. I did not think Fred had enough firepower to take on the plexisteel outer hull of the station. 

“Fred, see if you can locate Winter again. Her life sign beacon should show up somewhere. You may have to scan the entire station, not just the casino level.”

“Aye, Ellora. Shall I search the outer hull as well?”

The outer hull? No, that would be ridiculous…except I remembered that figure dancing on the atrium. Could that have been Winter? Surely not. I’ve never known her to do anything that stupid or obvious. 

“I don’t think…no, go ahead and search it. Maybe she…”

“Incoming transmission. On-screen.” Fred interrupted.

“All ships in sections une and deue are required by stationmaster authority to power down. We have a major coolant leak, and we cannot open the doors until the hydraulic systems are….”

“Chucksa Venerati, I don’t think so!” I snapped. “Fred, go engines live.”

“Aye. I find one life sign beacon on level 35, scrub locker 16, environmental division.”

Seven hells, she’d removed the beacon and left it in some poor subbers locker and stole his enviro suit.

“Fred, where’s the nearest airlock?”

“Section deue, but we are still in decompression hold, so the doors won’t open.”

“See if you can override and bring up main screens.”

I suddenly had a view of the entire docking area as the massive screens in the front of the flight deck activated and a holo of the deck system schematics spun to life across the display mesa in the middle of the floor. 

The rotating indicator lights changed to red and were whirling angrily. From my angle, I could see four other ships with their cables loose and repulsors on. “Good to know we aren’t the only ones anxious to leave.”

Fred murmured an agreement. “The Corvair is owned by the Ke’ranni family on Navarran. The shipliner is a long-haul freighter registered out of Yeltsin,  the other shipliner is a Trinastar-Halcyon registry, and the snubnosed carrier is an ore hauler, also registered in Yeltsin. No one is powering down.”

“They want us to stand down, yet the decompression cycle is still on.” I checked the atmo outside the ship, and we were at one quarter. “They need to make up their minds.”

The warning klaxons began, even as the station master advised again against leaving the docks. I wondered if Winter had managed to override their system somehow.

“Attention all ships in port. You are ordered by the Master of Fairelawn station to stand down and reengage your bowlines and tethers. This station is in lockdown until further notice. Your compliance by the accords of Navarran…”

“Oh, chuksa! Something big is going down.” Fred rarely swore, so I knew he heard more from his interface than I was.

“What happened?”

“Well, Fairelawn shut up real fast, but he did say something about the assassination of a well-known cabal member before the master of the station shut everything down.”

I glanced at the screens, “Uh, the Corvair is really anxious to leave. They’ve fired their engines.”

“Lot of chatter. Let me see if I can filter some of it for you” The sound in my halo dropped out for a second, and then I was bombarded with hundreds of voices all at once.  “Navarrani Corvair, stand down…”

“Not in the seven hells!” I presumed the speaker was the captain of the Corvair. “As a Sovereign member of Navarran, we have diplomatic privilege!
“I do not have your diplomatic papers on our registry, Captain. If you would be so kind as to transmit…”

I listened to the fight for a few minutes and even laughed out loud as the captain of the Corvair tried to get the intractable Fairelawn AI to let them depart. Meanwhile, the main holding doors were still opening to space. I wasn’t the only one that noticed, as several other ships around the Fred also untethered and floated free of the docks.

A flashing indicator light on my panel caught my attention. The aft airlock of the Fred was cycling open. I flipped the switch to the internal monitors. I couldn’t make out who or what was in our airlock. It wasn’t the first time someone tried to board us, so I fired up the internal deterrents. Whoever was in the lock had on a solid black envirosuit with an opaque helmet. 

“We may have a visitor,” I muttered to Fred.

“I see.” Fred switched to an external and internal view. I could hear the blast doors closing all over the ship. I took out my sidearm from the holding case built into the arm of my chair.

The lock finished the cycle, and the black-suited figure stepped out. The being reached back and shut the airlock, and hit the full close sequence. They pried the catches off the helmet where it connected to the suit. 

Winter had dyed her hair shocking pink. She stared up at the cameras and tilted her head. The heavy black kajal around her eyes made their brilliant color stand out. She trailed a faint line of sparkles behind her.

I breathed a sigh of relief and hit the internal door switches to let her access the rest of the ship. “Welcome back.”

She stopped in the corridor and donned one of the temp halos we left in various locations around the interior of the Fred.

“Fred, light the fire once the doors hit the greenway signal. We’ve got to be out before they learn they’ve been completely sabotaged.

 “Hello to you too,” I muttered and put my sidearm back in its holster.

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

As a side note to this story, if you like it, please consider supporting me on Patreon. For a dollar a month, you have access to blog posts, occasional videos, and material either cut from the story completely or material for the next novel. I publish a lot of side material there, so please consider joining me as this trilogy of stories spools out of my head and into my fingers.

Here is the link to my Patreon account. I hope to see you there!

https://www.patreon.com/user?u=24393564 Thank you!

My next convention will be LEVEL UP in Las Vegas, Nevada. See you then!

Pertumit Garundi 4

I found a well-anchored tapestry hanging on one wall. It was a front for a security camera but for my purposes, it would do nicely.  I hooked my fingers into it and climbed upward.  To anyone looking, the tapestry swayed in a light breeze caused by the air processing vents. As soon as I reached the top, I jumped to the catwalk overhanging the player area.  In serious card games, where a lot of credits changed hands, most casinos had an open ceiling covered in catwalks where the players could be observed, and armed guards were stationed at every intersection.  I bypassed them by crawling hand over hand underneath them.  I threaded myself through a pair of boots just to get to the girder overlooking Winter’s table. 

I attached myself to the girder with a strap so I could hang comfortably.  The slight clink of the clamp caused the guard nearest me to turn his head and frown.  I froze hoping he wouldn’t come over.  I have a terrible time glamouring metals. Fortunately for me,  his com activated, and he stopped to listen.  Whatever he heard caused him to move further away from me and down over some beings that were celebrating something.  They were being loud in an area reserved for quiet. 

Winter’s opponents had seated themselves and they waited for the robodealer to activate.  “Here” I muttered into my com.  Winter only nodded her head again and did not lookup.  The game began and I settled in for a long night.

Winter stuck to our plan.  She won enough to celebrate and lost enough to break even.  I learned Winter is a very good card player.  She moved through opponents like water and only a few times did I need to tell her what the other players’ cards were.  She made it to the semi-final round and I thought after the last win she would cash out and we could go.  But she didn’t. 

A veritable parade of beings crowded into the room, and I caught the flash as precious gems adorning fingers and talons as the light hit them.  The commotion was louder and the celebrants more vocal, calling out side wagers in earnest.  Slaves appeared in the crowd, and I winced as some of them were forcibly dragged to the front, near the tables.  The betting began to include the chattel plus goods, services, and even mine holdings.  The master of the salon finally called for order in the room. 

“Ladies and other gentle beings.” He began, “I bring you the final round in our tournament.  The winner takes a million credits plus the loser forfeits all winnings!”

“What in seven hells are you thinking?” I hissed into the com.  Winter shook her head and allowed her hood to fall back.  Her brilliant platinum hair shined in the glaring lights.

The murmurs immediately started.  The Garundi across from Winter blinked then stared down at the table concealing his expression.  The murmurs grew louder, and I could hear some of the whispers.  “A real Hashtaaleen? This should be good.” “I thought they were all dead?” “Will it eat the opponent if it wins?”

The last comment must have been audible for Winter to hear.  She turned toward the speaker and flashed her teeth.  The speaker fled.  I watched all this with amusement. I must explain, in case you are not already aware, that the Hashtaaleen is the universal embodiment of evil.  To be a Hashtaaleen is a curse, but to also be the subject of fear and superstition.  If you’ve heard the stories, then you know that there are beings in the universe that threaten their naughty children with an appearance from a Hashtaaleen.  The Hashtaaleen legend has spread so far and wide that no Hashtaaleen could ever hope to live up to it.  You see, I see Winter for what she is.  A humanoid woman from a destroyed planet who is lucky enough to be her own woman and not a slave.  She spends most of her time in silence, and whether that silence indicates she mourns her people and her world, I surely don’t know. 

The game began.  I angled myself to where I could see the Garundi’s cards.  His thick hands covered up most of the flimsy plastihex cards, but I could just glimpse numbers and symbols. I whispered them to Winter.  She raised her bet. 

Garundi doesn’t sweat, they ooze, and this one was dripping slime onto the fancy carpet.  A handler brought out a bucket and set it under him.  It had the consistency and smell of humanoid pus and I gagged when a hint of it wafted upward toward me.

Winter never flinched. She proceeded to demolish him and racked in her winnings.  The Garundi bared its teeth and pointed at a wire poking out of Winter’s robe.  “You cheated!” he screamed and the table was wrenched out of the ground and thrown at Winter.  She rolled out of the way and held up the back wire of her haloset. The Garundi was not appeased and picked up the nearest chair.  Security rushed at him as credit chips went flying.  The smart members of the crowd hastily moved toward the exits. The greedy beings went after the chips scattered on the floor.  Winter made to pick up the credit chips, and I took that as my cue to leave so I scuttled down the girder, as the security persons were more interested in the scuffle than in me.

I was halfway down when the first shots were fired. The crowd panicked and everyone was suddenly moving to the exits.

I crawled back up and grabbed the catwalk from the underside and moved along underneath holding on the sides so that booted feet did not mash my fingers.  Another shot shorted out the lights above the left exit doors and I headed for that one.  In the ensuing melee, I assumed Winter made it out through the other set of doors.

I dropped to the floor behind a troupe of distraught Realmese and followed them out.  I admit I was not paying a lot of attention to their conversation, but I did catch that someone had been killed in front of them.  I circled around to the other set of doors and the security was too tight.  The paramedic alert signals flashing along the upper beams of the corridor, so I retreated.

The way this scam is supposed to work is that whoever is the card player collects the credit chips from the floor, as many as they can. Those are dummy marks, worthless on their own.  Winter won, so as soon as her last bet was recorded, her winnings would transfer to an account set up in her alias.  The funds will hold in the aliased account while the win is verified.  In case you aren’t familiar with Fairelawn casino speak, these credit chips are called bobs.  The larger the denomination, the names change, so a bob represents a small wager, and a bobbin represents a large wager.  Bobbins are small, roughly the size of my fingernail.  They are not currency and by Fairelawn law, can’t be used as a currency either. But they can be reloaded once the credit has been drained from them.  Expended bobbins are worthless on their own, but since the data on them is erased, they can be reloaded by anyone. 

For our scam to work, Winter had to pick up enough bobs and bobbins so that we could transfer the winnings from her alias account onto them.  Bobs and bobbins have electronic keys that will shut the credit function off after a period but our ship, The Fred has a codebreaker silicate-based life form running the ship systems.  Fred became sentient sometime after Winter joined the crew but long before I came aboard.  He removes the key so that the bob can be used again.  Winter’s wire was not an accident.  She flashed that wire to get a reaction from the Garundi.  If he had not taken the bait, she would have taunted him into attacking her, or she would have started the fight outright.  The latter is not desirable, considering that is how you end up forfeiting your winnings and pay the casino for damages.  But he was more drunk and lucky than anything, which made it easier on us. 

Before the game, we scouted the casino floor by examining the schematics and holos of the interior.  In a space station like Fairelawn, there are a finite number of exits and places to hide.  Access in, out, and off the station is heavily controlled.  The trick is to get off the station without raising any alarms.  Plenty of tourists, drunk gamblers, and others leave bobs all over the place even out of the casinos.  They sweep them up after a game and dump them down a recycling chute.  So, it is nothing to find small bags of expended bobs in the glassware at the bar, in the atrium, and on gaming machines. The staff and slaves continuously clean up the mess.  Winter had a pouch sewn into her hood which resembled a rich patron’s purse.  She took the bobbins she collected during the ruckus and by prearrangement, left them behind a plant in the atrium.  To avoid post-win publicity, she took off as soon as she left the bag.  Security has eyes and ears almost everywhere, so concealing a bag is suspicious.  But a disappearing bag?  As soon as I touched it, the bag became part of my glamor.  I had to step around the security detail who was diligently searching for the “dropped” bag. 

I headed back to the refresher, waited for the stall to empty, dropped the glamor, and donned my disguise, which was the silk gown I hid in the ceiling earlier.  I flipped the bag inside out without spilling the contents.  Anything larger than a fingercase is automatically scanned by the casino security as you enter and exit the building.  The bag had been gray but was now a pearl golden color.  I used one of my glamor tricks to disguise the contents because I was going to walk out the only exit that used security personnel instead of scanners.  They don’t care about the bobs, but they did notice the bag.  My change of color would not fool them long, so I opted to use one of the few weapons I had. 

I noticed there was a commotion in the back, toward the high stakes area where the tournament was when I exited the refresher.  It is not uncommon for security to lock down a casino if a crime was committed, but it is not a crime to walk out with expended bobs.  To avoid scrutiny though, I casually headed to the exit.  Any other time, I would have stopped and had a drink, maybe chatted up the humanoid bartender.  By the time I got to the doors though, they were conducting bag searches.

As discreetly as I could, I took one of the serviettes from the nearest bar.  I bit down on the inside of my cheek, hard enough to draw blood.  I spat the blood onto the napkin and opened my bag.  I tucked the bloodied bit of cloth around the top of the bobs and laid my fingercase on top.  I glamoured the bobs to look like the interior cloth of the bag so that when I joined the queue and was searched a few minutes later, the security person only glanced at me.  I gave him a bright smile and he nodded to me.

I strolled out of the casino without a look back and headed for the docking rings.

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

As a side note to this story, if you like it, please consider supporting me on Patreon. For a dollar a month, you have access to blog posts, occasional videos, and material either cut from the story completely or material for the next novel. I publish a lot of side material there, so please consider joining me as this trilogy of stories spools out of my head and into my fingers.

Here is the link to my Patreon account. I hope to see you there!

https://www.patreon.com/user?u=24393564 Thank you!

My next convention will be LEVEL UP in Las Vegas, Nevada. See you then!