On a Pale Ship Page 28

  Luc shrugged. "Evac capacity?"

  "Bring 'em home safe has always been the Wotton way," Quentin said.

  Just then, a familiar face peeked into the hold from the bottom of the ramp. Sergeant Anderson smiled, giving a friendly wave.

  "What's this?" Quentin asked.

  "Mr. Rees has a load of supplies," Luc said, nodding acknowledgement to Anderson. "This must be his order now."

  "Ah, right on time," Kane said, scurrying around the three men and waving Anderson back. "We'll load through the air-lock."

  Luc watched but decided not to intervene. Kane would either prove his value or he wouldn't and Luc had more pressing issues — one of which was getting a handle on what Quentin had charged him eight million credits for.

  The next four crates were half-sized and not nearly as heavy as the machine shop or the TaunTaun. Luc's AI showed the load as munitions, portable hab facilities, field rations, grav rappelling gear and infantry grade armor. Basically, everything ten soldiers would need for thirty days in a hostile environment. Heavy crunching sounds caught his attention as two four-wheeled armored vehicles rolled into the warehouse. While he'd certainly seen wheeled vehicles in old vids, he hadn't expected to see them as part of a high-tech military expedition.

  "Wheels?" Luc asked as the machines rolled up the ramp and into the hold. "Doesn't that limit the terrain we can cover?"

  "Not really," Quentin said. "The wheels significantly extend the vehicle's range. With armor and troops, they top out at eight tonnes, but we're limited on battery space. Wheeled, they have a two-thousand-kilometer range without refueling. Grav plates take a lot more energy and reduce that distance to two hundred, give or take. If you don’t carry the wheels on board, you can add fifty kilometers, which I don't recommend in hostile territory since they cost five thousand credits each."

  "That it?" Luc asked, patting a hard black tire that had come to rest only a few meters from where they stood. The tire came up to just below his chest, and its skin, while moderately supple, had almost no give to it.

  "Explosives pack is last," Quentin said. "We like to take that a bit more slowly."

  "I would organize this," Gob said. "What is convenient for shipping will not be convenient when we are faced with an enemy."

  "Are you volunteering?" Luc asked.

  Gob nodded. "I am."

  "Before you do, I need you in a vac-suit," Luc said. "There are three replicators aboard. That should be your first order of business. And, I recommend at least three suit-liners." Luc pinched ten thousand credits from his personal account and flicked it to Gob. "Don't go cheap on the IP. Nothing worse than crappy comms or fuzzy vids."

  "Hooah, Captain."

  "Hooah, Sergeant."

  Quentin put his hand up. "I have just the thing."

  Luc turned from the two men who'd obviously established a congenial working rapport and strode purposefully toward the opening to the upper deck. Not sure how going up would work, he felt a certain amount of anxiety, but he wasn’t interested in asking for help or in looking like an idiot.

  He hadn't spent a great deal of time in zero-g, but he had played pod-ball. He understood how the shaft of gravity disruption worked for someone descending, so he should only have to apply a small amount of pressure to ascend.

  Luc’s HUD showed him what he’d failed to notice on the way down: a slight gray fog ahead where the gravity was adjusted. Without hesitation he stepped into it and pushed off, holding his arms in front to catch the fast-approaching lip of the deck above. The move was unnecessary as he easily sailed up in what his AI indicated to be .05g. His estimation of the jump was just about perfect and he landed with bent legs, having arced past the opening by two meters.

  "Establish comm with Dorian Anino," Luc said. His HUD displayed the layout of the two forward decks: the bridge and the forecastle. The bridge showed seating for six in what was a standard spacer configuration with two pilot's chairs in front and the others set in front of different stations. He decided to worry about sleep later.

  Dorian appeared on his screen. She was wearing a business suit much like the one he now wore. "Lucien. I wondered if I would hear from you today. How was your first day at Wotton?"

  Luc smiled. "There’s a lot to learn," he admitted. "Fortunately, my direct reports appear to have things well in hand. That is, if they don't eat each other while I'm gone."

  He waited a few seconds for Dorian's reply. From the delay, he estimated she was near Irène, but not likely on the surface.

  She chuckled knowingly at his observation. "I've heard rumors about those two from Henrietta. Apparently, both are quite capable, but with some mercenary tendencies. I suspect that's not why you called, however. I see you've drawn on your funds. Do you have confirmation on Marek's location?"

  "Not exactly, but Jimmy has a source on Earth, which is why I'm calling. Doctor Quentin says we need fuel if we are to use the TransLoc drives outside of a TransLoc gate. I was hoping you'd be willing to set us up," Luc said.

  He watched Dorian’s face turn impassive as she listened to his response. "That's a big ask, Lucien. There are few who know of this technology and if knowledge of it were to get out, it would damage our relationships with Belirand Corporation."

  Her warning brought to mind Wotton's sales forecast. Belirand Corporation accounted for twenty percent of their current sales and was one of the largest and most profitable multi-national corporations in the known universe. They were also the current holders of the TransLoc technology and ran the gates between each of the four systems. If it were to become public knowledge that the gates were un-necessary, it would be a crippling blow to Belirand's financials, which would in turn eat away much of Wotton's profit margin.

  "I understand," Luc said. "I wouldn't ask if I didn't think it was urgent."

  "Are you going after Natalia Lizst and Bit Coffman?"

  "Bit's name came up," Luc said. "I don't know of Lizst."

  "Retired special operations tactical genius," Dorian said. "She led the mission to pull the three of you from Fariza. You should know, she lost a friend in that mission. You'll have a hard time pulling her from her home."

  "Do you think Coffman can help?"

  "Berta Coffman is in a class all her own," Dorian said. "Neither she nor Natalia are incented by money. Your best path to Berta is through Natalia. When will you leave?"

  "Arion is fueled and taking on supplies," Luc said. "I plan to lift off within the hour."

  "An apt name. I'm sending an intercept navigation vector above Irène. You'll have a two-hour window to pick up your Aninonium. And Lucien, take care of yourself. You've become important to me. My old soul cannot bear the thought of another loss." Without waiting for a response, Dorian terminated the conversation.

  He considered the conversation as he turned away from the ramp leading to the forecastle and walked up the curved path to the bridge. A familiar smoky cloud appeared on his HUD in the foyer outside the bridge. Looking up, he saw only ceiling and contemplated what the gravity adjustment might be, but pushed forward.

  Just as he was about to turn to enter the bridge, he was met with what he could only describe as a wall of hard air.

  "Please hold for registration," his AI announced. Green rays of light cut through the virtual smoke and traced his body, quickly scanning him from head to foot, carefully avoiding his eyes. "Lucien Gray, registration complete as owner-representative of Wotton Enterprise. Full command access granted. Welcome aboard, Captain Gray."

  The pressure dissipated and he tentatively reached forward, seeking out the invisible wall. His hand passed harmlessly through the air in front of him. Following the curved bulkhead around, Luc entered the spacious, round room. Unlike the ships he'd flown for Nuage Air Defense, the ten-meter-diameter room felt much more like a lounge. The carpet was low cut, but soft, and chairs were neatly tucked into workstations that sat in front of broad panels currently displaying modern works of art. In all, it was sparsely appointed with no contr
ol surfaces visible.

  "Captain?" Kane's voice caught him from behind.

  "Yes, Kane?" Luc acknowledged, turning to him.

  "My apologies. I do not mean to interrupt, but if we are to depart shortly, it is advised that you change into a suit capable of operation within a vacuum." Kane handed Luc a transparent tumbler that held a light blue fizzy liquid.

  "What's this?" he asked, accepting the glass.

  "Alpine Blue. It is a sports recovery formula with a slight stimulant. You have been operating without rest for almost twenty hours," Kane said. "I was unable to locate anything in your history that suggests a preference."

  "I'm pretty much a coffee, beer or water type," Luc said, taking a drink. As soon as the liquid hit his stomach, he became aware of just how thirsty and hungry he'd become. The Alpine Blue wasn't overly sweet and he finished it in two long swallows."

  "Vac-suit," Kane prompted, taking the glass from his hands.

  His AI, which had been following the conversation, outlined a hidden panel in the aft wall of the bridge. There was a gravity tunnel that led to the captain's stateroom, directly below the bridge.

  "Right," Luc agreed and pushed open the hatch. The fogged air showed in front of him and this time he knew what to do and stepped into the open space. With his hands, he pushed on a bar on the aft wall of the shaft and dropped easily to the stateroom's deck.

  As Luc expected, the room was just as elegant as every other finished area within the ship. A grand row of windows showed a view of the warehouse entrance and the shimmering stars of the night sky beyond. He peeled off his clothing and stepped into the shower. He wasn't overly dirty, so he made it quick and toweled off just in time to hear a knock at another entrance to the room.

  Wrapping the towel around his waist, Luc hurried to the door and opened it, only to find Kane standing on the other side.

  "You don't need to knock," Luc said. "Why didn't you follow me down the gravity lift?"

  Kane smiled tightly. "That lift is restricted. Your room also has privacy settings which you engaged by showering. At your discretion, both can be modified."

  "I don't require a lot of privacy," Luc said, blinking at the prompt his AI presented which would give Kane access to his stateroom even when he was in the shower or asleep. He chose not to give him gravity lift access between the bridge and the stateroom, since the man already demonstrated a proclivity to appear behind him unannounced.

  Kane pulled a suit liner from the bed, handed it to Luc, and turned his back. "I took the liberty of bringing aboard fresh provisions for five. To be clear, I'm capable of preparing meals for you and a guest. I won't extend this courtesy for the remainder of the crew."

  "Noted." He pulled on the thin suit-liner. The fabric was designed to wick away natural body secretions and render them inert. It was generally accepted that a suit-liner needed to be cleaned at least once a week to remain effective, although there were rumors of spacers wearing them for months.

  Kane handed him a vac-suit that looked much like what he'd just seen Dorian wearing. Unlike a lot of suits, it had a rigid shape at both the shoulders and over the chest, giving it the lines of a business suit. The look was more formal than most spacers would like, but it seemed fitting if he were to represent Wotton Enterprise.

  "I thought that would work," Kane said, admiring his design. "The blue piping on the collar's black field pushes the blue in your eyes. That brown I had before was all wrong; your eyes were all washed out. Also, a present arrived from Ms. Anino earlier in the day. I didn't want to interrupt your plans, but it seems you have a moment to spare."

  Luc smiled. "Oh? What's that?"

  Kane pulled open a wardrobe that was built into the forward bulkhead to the port side of the head. On the top shelf lay four identical suit-liners, neatly folded. On the next shelf down were two pistols: a blaster and a flechette. Hanging below the shelving was more clothing and leaning against the closet's interior wall rested an oak bokken with a colorful fold of cloth artfully tied around its throat.

  "There's a note," Kane said.

  Luc crossed the room and picked up the bokken, taking a piece of cardstock from where it was trapped by what looked like a scarf. Safe travels — Love, Dorian.

  Luc carefully unwrapped the scarf and lifted it to his nose. It had the faint odor of the light perfume Dorian wore. "I'd like not to lose this," he instructed, setting the scarf next to his pillow.

  "Of course not, sir," Kane agreed. "Your boots?" He nodded to a pair of black mid-calf boots next to the bed.

  Luc rotated the bokken around with his right hand. While the same weight as all bokken, it felt light as a feather.

  "James Bang requests permission to enter bridge," Luc's AI informed him. He quickly pulled his boots on and stepped back into the lift, still carrying the bokken. As he stepped from the lift, he acknowledged the request and gave Gob and Quentin access as well.

  "What's it going to be?" Jimmy asked. "We headed to Puskar Stellar?"

  Luc didn't reply but started sketching navigation plans. It would take them an hour to sync up with the Aninonium delivery, the details of which were still fuzzy to him. Dorian had suggested a minimum safe distance for TransLoc wave generation was two hundred thousand kilometers from any station. He had to run the numbers twice as the transit time through fold-space was unfathomably small. It would only take them twelve hours to jump from the Tipperary star system back to Sol. In all, they'd spend more time traveling a safe distance to and from habitable systems than they would translocating.

  "Jimmy, somewhere along the line you decided this was some sort of democracy and that bad behavior would be tolerated," Luc said, turning to face him.

  "What’cha gonna do about it?"

  A large shadow was cast onto the bulkhead of the hallway that joined the bridge to the foyer. Luc's HUD showed that Gob had stopped short of entering the bridge.

  "We've already had this dance, Jimmy," Luc said. "Let's make this easy on both of us. If you'd prefer, I'll drop you on Earth and you can resume your life. If you keep challenging my leadership, I'll make that decision for you."

  "You're such a pompous ass," Jimmy said.

  "It's an easy choice, Jimmy."

  "You'll never get Bit Coffman without me."

  "Doesn't matter. I have zero flexibility where chain of command is concerned."

  "Fine, but you're going to have to loosen up a little. I'm not into all this yes-sir, no-sir shit."

  "I can work with that," Luc said, accepting the ship AI's tweaks to his navigation plan. "Gob, it's safe, you can come in now."

  "I didn't want to interrupt," Gob said. "All equipment is stowed for departure and I've been fit with a temporary vac-suit."

  Luc gave him the onceover. Strips of material had been fused into an existing suit. Even so, he still looked like a hundred grams of hotdog material stuffed into a fifty-gram casing.

  "All hands report readiness for departure." Luc slid into one of the pilot's chairs and requested a pre-flight checklist from the ship's AI. A holographic screen sprang to life directly in front of him. He grabbed the screen and slid it to the side, looking at a list of forty items that required verification. The ship was capable of performing most of the validations on its own, but Luc preferred to double check. On a window just below the major system checks, each person on board had a green or red checkmark next to their name, indicating if they were ready for takeoff.

  After working through the list, Luc was finally in agreement that the ship was ready.

  "Joliot Air Control, this is Arion. We're looking for a departure lane," Luc called, sending Arion's navigation vector into space.

  "We copy, Arion. This is Joliot," a woman replied. "Appreciate the heads-up, but you must be new. Wotton Enterprise has control over that sector. Safe travels to you."

  "Copy that, Joliot," Luc replied. "Arion out."

  Ever since entering the ship, Luc had wondered what it would be like to sail her. He'd flown, sailed, or otherwis
e navigated ships of just about every size and while he wasn't expecting trouble, he always felt apprehensive on a maiden voyage.

  He pulled the flight sticks out and configured them to match what he used on the Falcon. There were a few additional controls he'd need for the larger ship, but he could make do for now. In fact, his personal AI would sync with the ship's AI and all instructions would be translated to the various control surfaces and systems in the most logical possible manner. The fact that he had so much varied experience meant that his AI could accurately interpret his gestures at a level most career pilots would never reach.

  It was past 0200 in the morning and fatigue was setting in, but Luc was still thrilled as he broke free from the confines of the warehouse and sailed up into the night sky. A few minutes after lifting off, Arion broke free from Joliot's gravity. With nothing in their way, Arion smoothly accelerated on a preordained intercept path which would lead them to the Aninonium.

  It was something of a letdown when Luc realized Dorian wouldn't be meeting them. As tired as he was, he'd have liked to see her one last time before leaving the system. With the package aboard and the fuel loaded, he set an alarm to wake him six hours later when it was time to enter fold-space, something he'd never done while conscious.

  As Luc slept, he dreamed of feral children chasing him through the ship, their long fangs tearing at his flesh when they caught up to him. When the alarm brought him back to consciousness he felt like he hadn’t rested at all.

  Chapter 25

  Storm Anchor

  The trip through fold-space had but a single interesting event. Doctor Quentin finally finished a vac-suit for Gob that looked like it was designed for the man. According to the doctor, the cellular modifications to Gob's skin actually prevented normal suit materials from working correctly. He also hypothesized that Gob could do quite well without a suit of any kind for days, if not months — even with his body exposed to vacuum.