"We'll cover your repairs. I'm putting your ship at the front of the queue at Kingston Yards. I'm afraid my department will only authorize five hundred thousand in certified platinum for you and your crew, though."
Spin sighed theatrically and nodded. "Fine. You can't expect my crew to stay quiet about this, though. I mean, I'll try to keep them from telling everyone about it, but…"
"I've been authorized to give your ship a White Ticket for one year. That means you can use any military or high priority wormhole gate in British Alliance space, which should be a massive advantage as you carry passengers or cargo."
"One year?" Spin scoffed, playing up her amusement so it looked like she was offended. "You can do better. Ten, and I want a salvage ticket for me and my ship."
"What? You can't buy a White Ticket. This is something reserved for…" someone else spoke to her from behind. "…I can expand our offer to three years. Keep in mind that it will only be valid for Convoy King Zero Zero Three Five Four Two. You should change the name of your ship now, by the way. If you do it after we give you this, the White Ticket will be invalid. Oh, and we'll give you an operator's ticket for claiming salvage."
"I accept. We'll make something of it."
"Under the numerical name? Wouldn't you rather change it? There are hundreds of Convoy Kings."
"The Jolly Traveller," Spin said, liking the sound more as she said it.
"The Jolly Traveller," the officer on the other end confirmed, adding it to the contract. "We'll have it stamped on the new reactor…"
"Upgraded reactor, and upgraded wormhole generator," Spin said. "And you'll arm us to military specifications."
"We can upgrade the reactor, your thrusters and wormhole generators, and we'll do so gladly but we won't upgrade your weapons. If I promise that, and we resupply your ship after its repaired and the Tickets are applied, then can we end this negotiation? My supervisor wants me to close this call."
"Don't forget the half-million in certified platinum and high-end accommodations for the crewmember I'm leaving here to supervise the repairs," Spin said. The contract changed to reflect the whole bargain with all the conditions.
"Done. Will that be all, Captain?"
"Thank you, I'll tell my crew to be as silent as they can about our horrible experience here, and once we return from our day trip aboard the Sector Jumper, we'll be on our way." Spin approved the contract, pleased with how well her negotiations went, and the communication connection closed. Compared to dealing with corporations and royal families, the British Alliance were pushovers.
Spin could hear Nigel and Boro laughing before they staggered into sight a few frames down the corridor. "Oh my God! Where did you learn to negotiate like that?" Boro asked.
It was so good to see him happy, laughing. Spin knew he was still medicated, but whatever Leland gave him helped him come most of the way back in less than a full day. "My training started when I was a little girl," Spin said. "They were preparing me to negotiate every contract like it was worth trillions. I'm glad it's paying off a little."
"I've never seen anyone push a government around like that," Boro said. "It was amazing. I've never even heard of a White Ticket before."
"Me neither," Spin snickered. "I thought the only passes you could get for military wormholes were the three I got from the intake officer at the refugee centre. Now we have the run of Alliance space for three years. Honestly, I was just hoping to get the repairs completely covered and set Sharon up in a nice place while they were doing them. I'm not made of money."
"With skills like that, you don't have to be," Nigel said. "Wow. Next time I buy a planet hopper, you'll do the talking. Wait; Sharon's staying here?"
"Someone has to stick around to make sure the ship gets repaired," Spin said. "Besides; we already have a military pilot."
"Good point. You realize that airlock has been pressurized for a few minutes," Nigel said, looking down at the hatch between their feet.
"After you two," Spin said.
Boro opened the inner hatch and dropped down. The outer hatch opened when the inner closed behind him, and he drifted the rest of the way into the Sector Jumper, followed by Nigel who followed the same process. Their gear was already aboard. Everyone was told to bring only what you needed, no extra equipment, clothing, or other non-necessities. Everything she wanted was on her or in her small personal bag, so she passed through the airlock and came through the other side into a ship that looked nothing like what she'd seen before.
The deck was matte grey and definitely designed to be non-slip. It didn't look like metal, more like some kind of ceramic. The walls were plated with black panels that had a smoky, glassy sheen. There were visible layers beneath that changed colour depending on how she looked at them. The blocky patterns beneath almost looked like circuitry, and she found herself touching the surface. It was warm, about ambient temperature, not cold like glass or metal, and her fingertips triggered a cloud of information around them.
Video of public appearances as she served the Countess in various outlandish and glamourous outfits then gowns as she grew older appeared. Another part of the expanding cloud had all her medical information, starting with her raw genetic data and extending to the scan the ship took of her. Her criminal record expanded out in another direction, with security footage of her in those high boots and white suit. She was happy she left the boots behind, they were a hassle, and as the crimes were listed; kidnapping, murder, ship theft, mutiny, escaping service and several counts of grand theft, she realized she didn't regret any of them. Most of the murder charges were made up, so she'd fight those if she had to, but the last statement in that bubble of information was that the British Alliance had blocked all her previous crimes from entering the records of their justice system. Instead, her record only included her Statement of Liberation, her ship, and the rights she'd been given as a Captain.
"It's intelligent plating," a man only slightly taller than her with a friendly, broad face said. "The ship is learning about you." He extended his hand. "I'm Hal."
"I knew there was something I liked about you," Frost said as Spin finished shaking Hal's hand. Boro and Nigel were behind him, taking their jackets off. "A fellow ship thief. There are few crimes that make law enforcement take notice than someone who doesn't respect the locks on a ship in port."
"It was out of necessity, trust me," Spin said.
"I hear you got some services out of the British Alliance. Wish I could have seen that, actually."
"It looks like our ship will be repaired and ready for us when we get back."
"Oh, I don't know about that," Frost said. "We'll be back before you know it. This is the fastest ship in the sector."
"I've heard that before," Spin said. "You'll have to show me."
"Aye, I will," Frost said. He looked almost… excited. "But first, let's modernize you a little. If you're going to fly with us on the Sector Jumper, you're going to have to suit up like a member of her crew."
Twenty-Eight
By the time Spin was finished putting on the suit she was given - a thin thing that wasn't more than a millimetre thick but she was told there were many layers, sublayers and that it was military grade - and clamped the pair of combat bracers on, she was left with a pile of old equipment in a footlocker at the end of her bunk. The suit was black without adornment, and it was so well fitted and matched to her skin that she didn't feel like she was wearing anything. "This can't be as tough as Hal said it is."
A diagram of how the suit was laid out and made was projected from her left wristband. Layers of intelligent, flexible armour and synthetic muscle were printed under protective substances that kept everything beneath safe from radiation, including most electromagnetic pulses. The armour ratings of each layer were each higher than she'd seen in any thin space suit she'd heard of. It was difficult for her to believe, but she knew there was no time for a demonstration.
Another tutorial appeared and she followed it, learning about the
heads-up display that was built into the hood of the basic suit, and adding pockets and holsters to the uniform. By the time she was finished she had the new smart sidearm that came with the suit holstered on one side, while a pocket with survival supplies balanced that on her other thigh. The Shredder that killed Larken, the fourteen shot revolver that was made to tear people apart but leave most technology barely scratched, was in a special holster above her belt. Her suit told her that it was in fair condition, still reliable and that it was also made to damage containment suits in zero gravity. The last thing she added to her suit was a set of seven grenades that she secured in smart loops around her waist. One was stolen from the small armoury cabin aboard the Sector Jumper when Shamus and Hal weren't looking. The box it was in rated it as Class R9, but it was the same size as the other grenades, only about five centimetres across. She was sure they knew she'd palmed one by the time she put it on her belt, but they weren't coming after it. The short tutorial outlining its use made her giggle at the potential, and she felt a little like Dorian must have whenever he got new hardware. "Guess there's a little Dorian in all of us," she muttered, moving on to another instructional topic.
A tutorial about using synthetic muscle appeared, advising her to move normally. The system read neural triggers on its own, so the muscles would activate when she needed more physical power. "Where does this technology come from?" she asked, aware that most of the systems weren't completely new, she'd just never seen them put together in one compact, easy to use package before.
Two images appeared: A woman with a heart shaped face wreathed in red ringlets and a sterner looking fellow with practically cut dark hair and friendly eyes. The first spoke in a relaxed but clear British accent. "I'm Ayan Anderson, the founder of Haven Shore and the technical owner of what used to be called the Rega Gain System. It's been renamed to the Haven System, and you are wearing a protective suit designed for use by Haven Fleet personnel. It's a standardized, basic piece of vacsuit armour that includes a pair of bracers that provide medical assistance, a secondary interface, have a built-in scanner suite that works with the suit, a micro-line launcher, small stunner, and it can perform a few other duties if required. The suit you're wearing was made to protect soldiers, and the technology is advanced but no longer proprietary since we've expanded the program, providing a similar protective suit to all our citizens."
"But, who are you people?" she asked the hologram.
Spin was relieved when Ayan's holographic visage looked at her directly and answered. "Haven Fleet is a formalized group of protectors and freedom fighters. To save time, I'll explain who we are now. Haven Fleet is a new military organization that is built on the successful traditions of many others. Initially the result of many armed parties coming together to defend the Haven Solar System, the Fleet began to organize under several leaders with military training and experience with one goal that persists: to protect the citizens of the Haven System, innocent people within reach, and to proactively combat suppressors when necessary. The Defence Minister of the Haven Government serves as its leader, but he is answerable to the other two members of the ruling Triumvirate; the highest ranked members of our government. Instead of a prime minister or president, our government has three elected leaders that work together. One represents the military, another oversees public welfare, and the third is the ultimate authority and representative voice for the sciences. The rest of our government is based on a system of fair representation through a democratic voting process that has many built in checks and balances."
The next section of Ayan's explanation was projected into Spin's eyes so she could see a perfectly clear vision of her and the location around her. Ayan was in a black uniform with a gold stripe down the sides. Spin was surprised and amused at how short she looked, but there was an air about her that demanded respect too. Ayan was standing in front of a window overlooking a blue and green planet.
A trio of fighters passed by as Ayan settled against a railing. "Before we go on, let me address something. According to the antiquated galactic courts, I'm the Queen or Empress of the Haven System, being its only owner. I accept the title of Queen for legal reasons, since it's easier to maintain independence from other systems and refuse the purchase of any part of this solar system by corporations or other interests. Aside from that, my title is ornamental. I serve as an Admiral in Haven Fleet and let the entire solar system operate as a growing, thriving democracy. The rank of Admiral is one that I earned through military service and other experiences that are on the record."
Ayan looked through the window at the blue-green wonder beyond, then back to Spin. "That's our first hurdle; the Tamber moon. As of this recording, millions of humans live there, and over one million Nafalli are joining us thanks to a land grant and more are coming. We welcome refugees of all kinds and invite them to join us in defence of our solar system, because freedom is becoming harder and harder to secure in our galaxy. We believe our people deserve opportunities of all kinds, and they should be free to pursue whatever goals they like as long as it doesn't hurt or unnecessarily impede anyone else. That brings me to the next point; why Haven Fleet exists at all. After the Holocaust Virus was cleared throughout most of this sector, the Order of Eden - the creators of the Virus - began to encroach on our territory. Funded and supplied by the Regent Galactic Corporation and several others, they claim to be keeping an alien invasion at bay. While the Edxi are a real threat, we've uncovered evidence that makes it clear that the Order of Eden are doing more harm than an Edxi invasion alone would do, enslaving millions and sending even more to their deaths. With the assistance of the British Alliance, Lorander, and many other allies we have declared that the Haven System is off limits and are defending its borders. Invasion is imminent, but we're ready. Our arms are open to anyone who defects or needs safe harbour. If you're a refugee of any kind and like what you see, then welcome. Please obey our basic civil laws. If you don't like what you see, you can leave at any time and we'll even make sure you don't go away empty handed."
"What is this ship? What can it do?"
"Since most of the technology aboard this ship is classified, I can only tell you that it's a new Interceptor Class Haven Fleet vessel. You'll find five crew cabins and one captain's cabin aboard. It is expandable if necessary at the cost of combat effectiveness. We've designed everything for long-term comfort, because the Interceptors are basically long patrol and variable purpose mission ships. The one you're on is under the command of Captain McFadden, so if you'd like more training or responsibility aboard, you'll have to ask him."
"How fast is it?" Spin asked, becoming a little frustrated with how little specific information the otherwise impressive system was giving her.
"Using next generation technology, the Interceptor is the fastest ship in its class. The smallest to use the Quad Drive, a new…"
The playback stopped as someone knocked on the door. Her vision cleared, and Ayan was a projected head hovering above her wrist again. "How is everything going in there?" Hal asked through the door.
"Fine, just trying to get oriented," Spin replied, turning the playback off and opening the door.
Behind Hal, between two crew quarter doors, Frost was helping Della through a turret simulation. She was in a seat that turned every which way smoothly, and Frost was standing behind her on a bar so he could see exactly what she was doing. "See? Let the system tell you how much you have to lead your target and forget the triggers. You know when you have a good shot, so all you have to do is keep your sights in the right place. The computer will fire when you're ready."
"Oh, my God! It's working! The computer's reading my mind, that's so weird."
"Now practice with the trigger, and remember to squeeze, don't pull or jerk," Frost said.
"Why do I have to practice with both?"
"Your head might not be as clear when your targets shoot back, so you'll have to use the triggers," Frost said, hitting a button so the swivel seat levelled off enough for him
to step off it, back into the hallway. "You'll sort it out with some practice, you're a good gunner."
"Thanks, Frost," Della said.
Spin fell into step with Frost as he walked through a sliding hatch. Mirra was on the other side in a swivel seat that hung above the hallway. "This thing is amazing, I'm controlling two turrets seamlessly."
"Just a simple trick made easier by good tech," Frost said. "Keep practicing, you're tearing the scenario up like it's personal."
"What do you think of Della's shooting?" Spin asked.
"She's no sharpshooter, but with the assist system in the turret, she'll get better in a hurry. I've trained much worse," he said. They arrived in the bridge - a narrow six seat space arranged with the stations in pairs from front to back. Boro was sitting in the co-pilot's seat, watching the control system tutorial for navigation and communications. Nigel was in the seat behind him, watching a tutorial on power systems as he looked through the status screens of the ship. The controls were easy to read and understand at a glance.
"She's had trouble with confidence," Spin said.
"All but the most cocky or stupid people have trouble with confidence sometimes, she just needs to be shown how it's done by a computer, not a friend she's afraid of disappointing. She'll be good enough after a few hours, you'll see."
"Why not use automation or an artificial intelligence for all this stuff? I know there's one aboard, these control systems aren't intuitive just because of design."
"Our artificial intelligence isn't smart or well-connected enough to assume control because we expect people to try to hack us. Real, flesh and bone folk power our Fleet. Only a couple artificial intelligences have feelings, or that spark that makes them want to be their own bloody person. Our workhorse code AI's think for us, not themselves."
Savage Stars Page 18
