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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