Spinward Fringe Broadcast 0: Origins

by Randolph Lalonde

  “Well that's something I've never seen before,” I said, still shocked but amused.

  “Wow, fooled me like a daft mark.”

  “You're not the only one from the looks of it.”

  We each dropped five credits to exit the turnstiles and started walking down Current Street. It wasn't a street at all really, just a broad tunnel with shops, restaurants, and private homes further up the rock face. The height of the tunnels is what I found most amazing, they made room for at least thirty stories, and I could see that regardless of the lack of view, each of the apartments had windows. The stone was black and grey; combined with the low lighting it gave the area a very relaxed look, which lent itself well to the multitude of restaurants with tables set outside in the walkway. The smell of the food was tempting, but according to the map that appeared with the pricing information, Larsen's Place was just around the next corner, about ten doors down.

  As we made our way down the street at a more leisurely pace, I couldn't help but notice a lot of people weren't wearing vacsuits. “We must be a lot deeper inside. It doesn't look like anyone here is worried about decompression.”

  “I wonder how old this place is. Some of these restaurants use old Earth dating for their establishment date plaques. I've only seen that in one other place, and it was an outer core colony.”

  “You really have been all over, haven't you?” I asked her conversationally.

  She smiled and shook her head. “It feels like it sometimes, but then I see something like this,” she gestured to the street in general. “I've seen other settlements that were similar, but you have to put your expectations aside. I could assume that these places are the same as stores and restaurants I've seen on other planets, but few places are really alike. Take that little girl for example. Almost anywhere else giving her five credits would be the perfect thing to do, exactly the right solution, but here it was a little scam. I didn't suspect a thing.”

  “You should have seen your face,” I teased. “That was worth five credits.”

  “I'm sure, but that's my point. There are always surprises wherever you go, especially if your ship doesn't have a route that you repeat over and over again. You never get to see much of a place.”

  “That's true, I'm sure the area Minh and Oz are in is completely different.”

  We came around the corner and came out into an opening that took our breath away. The sign overhead said PIT STREET LEVEL 140. Current Street's tunnel opened up into a smoothly caved round cavern that seemed to go on forever in all directions. The other wall was so far away that it was hazy; the yawning space between the road we stood on and the opposite end was obscured by light, dust and the mildly damp air.

  We were over two hundred meters up from the base of The Pit, and looking down from that railing was dizzying. As we walked closer to the railing, which was just a part of a transparent metal safety cage that glinted silver as you looked along the edge, we had difficulty taking it all in.

  Booths overlooked the grandeur and spectacle of the massive circular open area beneath and above us. The holographic advertising was sparse, but from where we were we could see one from a news network that was four stories tall. “Tonight's feature, Horror along the transit lanes! Are you stepping onto a hyperspace transport? Or is it a slave barge in disguise! We profile two couples who barely escaped and our experts will tell you how you can avoid getting captured by slavers!” The anchorman enticed with interleaved images of luxury and captivity, the sound of his perfect news caster voice piped in from somewhere near the floor.

  Behind us there was very little traffic, small personal transports for one or two and a couple anti-gravity delivery sleds moved along at a leisurely pace. There were small round pips along the four lane road that monitored speed and who was going where. I recognized them from Freeground, where we used similar technology in shuttle tubes.

  The centre of the cavern floor was occupied by five arenas, with two more on massive criss-crossing support structures. I immediately recognized one of the main events taking place in a suspended section. The space above the support had been netted in, creating a closed area hundreds of meters in size. Within, pilots engaged in close quarters dog fights against single or multiple opponents. I could make out three combatants firing at each other while the wreckage of the fourth was being removed from the bottom of the chamber.

  I pulled my gaze away from the spectacle in the middle of the cavern and looked back down. A city of interconnected buildings and a network of streets made for small vehicles had been erected around the five arenas at the bottom. There were tens of thousands of people.

  “Now that's amazing,” Ayan said quietly. “There's so much open space. Equalizing the pressure this well must take an incredible effort. If someone opened the wrong seal at the wrong time the air could start moving so fast that no one could stand.”

  There was no more than a constant breeze that ranged from nearly unnoticeable to just enough to ruffle your hair. “You're right. And keeping this place warm, that's just-”

  “Labour intensive. Whole station works on a system of fail-safes so it's a nice twenty two degrees most times. There are days where you'd swear you were in a wind tunnel and it drops down to six degrees, mind you. Maintenance never stops workin'. Welcome to The Pit,” a voice from behind us intoned. “You're Captain Valent. Berl sent me a pic. Told me to expect you.”

  Ayan and I turned around and saw that we had been standing in front of Larsen's Place. He used an entire half of a Light Garren fighter, complete with its ancient paired gauss cannons, as a backdrop for his simple holographic shop sign. It was an angular, two man Sol System Defence fighter, centuries old. Behind him I could see the entrance to the shop proper was no more than ten meters wide, but the space inside seemed to go on forever.

  The fellow who had spoken wore an older protective workman's overalls, but it didn't show nearly as much damage or dirt as Berl's or the ones his work crew wore.

  “Call me Jonas, and this is Commander Rice, my Chief Engineer.” I extended my hand.

  He shook it and I could feel he was using an old mechanical limb replacement for his right hand. “I'm Larsen. I don't have a hundred employees like those corporate shops. Just a prime location, a few check booths and a few dozen androids to keep customers served and shoplifters out.”

  We followed him inside, where parts from every kind hung along the walls and holograms of used and new ships of several different sizes rotated slowly down the middle of the store.

  “Berl didn't tell me you were military types.”

  “We're a shareholder ship, but we use rank to keep the crew in line,” Ayan said without missing a beat.

  “I've seen that once or twice before, but I'm afraid the word's out on you. Us connected types have already heard there's a Freeground combat vessel drydocked here after a tousle with Vindyne. Too bad you ran into the big bad Corp of the region, otherwise no one would make you with that strange hull o' yours. Berl said she's a beauty. No worries though, I hate those damned slavers. Seen a few good crews get slagged by them over the years.”

  “I hesitate to ask, but is the word out on which bay we're in?”

  He led us back across the four clearly marked lanes, stopping a large double deck anti-gravity delivery truck along the way. “Anyone who wants to know can find out easily enough. Anyone who matters, anyhow. I'd say it's no worry though. The station keeps her dry docks secure. Station like this doesn't get so prosperous by letting her safe harbours get raided from the inside.”

  “How hard is the security here on bounty hunting?” I asked.

  Larsen was about to take us down a set of stairs just inside his store but stopped and half turned to look at me. “You and your folk really are neck deep in it, aren't ya? No way you took down a Vindyne Super Carrier. Can't convince me of that. Did or didn't doesn't matter for you folk though. They're gunnin' for ya like ya did.” He turned back towards the stairway and led us down to a room filled with sample
computer terminals and holographic projectors. “Security sensors pick ya up fast once a firefight breaks out, but there's a reason why the station's always hirin' more officers; there's never one around when you need one. I don't think I've seen a security officer in three days. They force fighting crews ta pay fines or lock your ship down. There's another thing. If a firefight gets too hot -- explosions and the like start goin' off -- they'll seal off the area and flush out all the air. Solves most problems, 'cept they can't do it to some really big spaces like The Pit. But if you see bulkheads closin' find a spot to hang on to and seal those fancy suits of yers.”

  “Thanks for making that clear,” Ayan nodded.

  “Can't help but hear, you've got a bit of Britain in you. Accent's a dead giveaway.”

  “My mother's from the British Core Colonies.”

  “Well, glad to see a product of the brighter side of civilization all the way out here. Now, let's get down to business,” he turned on the holographic projectors and interface panels lining the walls and occupying the centre of the room. None of them were installed permanently; they were just powered and set up for demonstration. “Most of these models are brand new, straight from the outer core manufacturers. I keep the used ones in another compartment.”

  The evidence was in the image quality. Most of them were better than anything I had seen outside of military macro applications on Freeground. “How are the prices?”

  “Getting better all the time, though a lot of merchants out here grief on me sayin' so. The last shipment was almost five percent down. They're getting cheaper to make these days with less jitter and better colour adjustment. These'll take less tuning and last longer.”

  “That's probably thanks to the advancements in the materializers used to produce the holographic medium. They're so cheap to manufacture now that the prices should come down a lot more next year,” Ayan said. There was a slowness to her manner of speech that took me by surprise and I looked at her.

  She looked up at me and a moment later she went limp. I caught her a little awkwardly, with one hand under her arm and the other catching her forearm, but I kept her from falling to the floor nevertheless. I was able to adjust my hold after a moment and picked her up in my arms. She was surprisingly light.

  Larsen turned all the displays off with a push of a button on the back of his hand. “She have problems with projections?” he asked as he hurriedly cleared a stack of boxed display panels off an old sofa.

  I laid her down on it and checked her pulse. “Not that I'm aware of.”

  “I'll call station emergency. Won't have a lovely thing like her dyin' in my shop,” he said as he started punching buttons into his communicator.

  “I'd rather contact our ship doctor. Her pulse and breathing seem all right.”

  “If you're sure now,” Larsen said, just about to open communications with emergency services. “If your doctor can fix her up it'll be cheaper. Emergency calls cost five hundred if it's fer nothin' and get pricier from there.”

  Just as the ship communications officer was coming on Ayan started to come around. Her eyelids drew open drowsily at first. A smile spread sleepily across her face at first as her blue eyes looked into mine, then she realized where she was and straightened up in a shot, sitting up suddenly. She looked dizzy and put a hand to her head.

  “Captain? Is there something wrong?” asked a voice from my communicator.

  Ayan's eyes widened for a moment and before anyone else could say anything she grabbed my wrist and turned my arm so she was looking into my command unit's communicator. “Everything's fine Ensign, I brought up the emergency line while adjusting the Captain's C and C unit, no worries,” she explained and closed the transmission.

  “C and C unit?” asked Larsen.

  “Communications and Command Unit, or Command and Control Unit, it stands for both,” Ayan answered. She seemed fully awake and alert. “I'm fine, no need to call the Doc or alert the ship. I haven't had anything to eat today, that's all.”

  “Now that I can fix,” Larsen said, tossing Ayan a meal bar, colourfully packaged in a bright yellow and green wrapper.

  “Thank you. I'm sure it'll be on our bill,” Ayan tried to jest as she opened it and proceeded to take a bite.

  “I'm just happy someone 'sides me is eating one. Bought four tons of those a year ago and can't sell them for cost. Lemon lime energy bars are an acquired taste I'm thinkin'.”

  Ayan worked through her first bite, chewing it quickly and going flush from nose to ears as I checked my arm unit. My console could give me a general idea of fitness on any of my crew, and I held mine so she couldn't see what I was doing.

  “I believe it,” she said, sounding a little choked. Ayan looked at me and saw that I was checking up on her.

  “Just double checking,” I could see that her blood sugar was very low, and regardless of how she may have been acting, her body was showing fatigue.

  Placing her hand on my arm she insisted, “I'm fine, just needed a seat and some energy,” she took another bite of the faintly green and yellow coloured energy bar and tried not to grimace. “See?”

  I couldn't help but smile at her as she struggled to get through eating the stuff. The taste of that meal replacement must have been awful but it was gone in under a minute. “Still, we'll get something to eat after we're finished here, then get back to the ship, okay?”

  “Fine, just don't make a fuss,” Ayan said as she gave the wrapper to Larsen, who was trying to hide his amusement at her finishing the bar.

  “I'm the only other human I know who's finished one of those,” he said as he tossed the wrapper in a recycler built into the wall and shook his head. “Scared us both for a minute there lady. Best let the Captain here take care of ya.”

  "We haven't had leave in about two months, I think it's taking its toll,” I explained to him.

  “Well, I can hurry this along and give you my best wares at my lowest so you can get her back to your ship.”

  “I'm fine, really, just needed a cat nap,” she squeezed my hand and looked me in the eye. “Really, I'm okay.”

  Silence hung in the air for a moment, with Ayan and I looking at each other while Larsen used a projection chip to display a list of components.

  “Did Berl give you an inventory of what he needed to finish the crew quarters?” She asked.

  “This is it here,” Larsen replied, gesturing with the holochip.

  “Give it here. I have a list for you as well.” She handed him a slender data stick and took the list from him. We looked at the inventory while lounging on the sofa. It reflected what I expected we were missing: door displays, cables, holographic projectors, small motors, pulse shower kits, atmospheric subsystems, deck and wall surface treatments, along with a few other small items that added up to quite a list. From what Ayan and I knew the prices he had listed beside each item were reasonable.

  He sucked air in through his teeth at a few of the items on the list Ayan had given him. “There's some expensive stationary equipment here, Miss. We're lookin' at over a million for half.”

  Ayan gave him a crooked grin, pulled an antimatter containment crystal from her mid-thigh pocket and tossed it to him. “Catch.”

  His cybernetic hand caught it reflexively, as quick as a blink. “That's not semi-solid is it?” He asked, holding it up to the light for inspection. “The machines needed to make this stuff are priceless out here. This antimatter will help, but won't cover your whole list, Miss,” he held the crystal out in his artificial hand and pulled a small stylus shaped scanner from his pocket. The scanner projected light through the crystal and provided a small holographic readout from the back end.

  “Would the rest of the case pay for it?” She asked without looking at him. “I mean, that's if it's useful to you. If you don't have the equipment to extract it, then it's not much good.”

  “Oh, don't you worry, Miss. The buyer I know who would make use of this will have what he needs to extract it. Vindyne markings al
l over this though.”

  “Is that a problem?” I asked.

  Larsen looked from the crystal to us, as though assessing us for the first time. “You two sure have shaken my day, I'll give you that. I'll ask, though it's against my better judgement. Where'd you get this?”

  “The crew of a Vindyne destroyer let us have it,” I answered.

  Ayan shook her head slowly and quietly groaned.

  “Like I said, shouldn't of asked, but there it is. I'll take what you've got, and you'll come out with fifty percent market value.”

  Ayan turned off the holochip and stood. “We have three cases ready to transport. I can sell them to you for eighty five percent fair market value and we only take raw UCW Credits.”

  “I'll give you sixty five, final word. I can't pay more for marked goods. Vindyne don't sell munitions grade antimatter. The stuff they offer is only dense enough to be used as fuel.”

  “We have a deal,” she accepted with a smile.

  Larsen put the crystal in his pocket and shook her hand. “The parts will be in your hold afore you've time to get back to your ship.”

  Chapter 6

  Dating for Spacers

  Larsen had traded a little less than fairly for the antimatter, but Ayan and I were anxious to get rid of the stuff. Though well contained, there was always the chance that just one of those crystals could destabilize, since containment always came with a decay rate. That would spell the end of the ship, one crystal going off next to all the others, starting a chain reaction would annihilate half the inner hull and superheat the rest. There was every reason to get rid of the antimatter we had -- especially since we had no way of extracting it -- and Larsen's client did. I shuddered to think who that could be.

  We not only made off with all the equipment and parts we requested, but nine brand new Raze Starfighters, more than enough to replace those that we had lost since leaving Freeground. The rest of the value of our antimatter was settled with credits, enough to pay the entire crew for two months or conduct significant repairs.