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.
siriusmoonlight 