“Of course. Most of them are routed to the trash.”
“Including sender?” he asked.
“Sure.”
He grinned. “We know at least two people we can message.”
“Brill,” I said, catching on to where he was going.
“And Dr. April Torkelson,” Pip said. “Suppose Ms. Torkelson would like to send a message to her mother?”
Ms. Fortuner frowned. “How do we do that out here?”
Mr. Reed grinned at her. “What if we had picked up messages from, say, Siren that were routed to Jett. What happens when we jump into Jett?”
“The beacons siphon off the messages and route them,” she said. “But we didn’t pick up traffic routed to here.”
“No,” Mr. Reed said. “But if we know the headers, we can put the messages in our outbound traffic queue and flash the beacons.”
Her face lit up as understanding registered. “Of course.”
“When we’re done here, perhaps you could run a query on that save buffer and see if the names April Torkelson or Brilliantine Smith show up as senders, Ms. Fortuner,” I said.
“You might see if Demetri Regyri shows up as well,” the chief said. “I wouldn’t expect it to, but you never know.”
“That’s two ideas,” I said. “Try to contact a miner. Try to message any friends. Anything else?”
Pip said, “We could try to pay somebody.”
The chief blinked and looked at him. “Or bill them.”
His eyes widened. “That would work, too.”
“We could probably piggy-back a communication on the High Tortuga network,” the chief said.
“What if we took the banking network off line?” I asked.
Pip sat back in his chair and stared at me. “Are you mad?”
I shook my head. “Not particularly.”
“We’d have to know where the nodes are in this system to do that,” he said.
I shook my head. “Not really. We only need to know what channels they’re using.”
“Good luck with that,” Pip said. “Even I don’t know that.”
“Maybe we already know it,” I said. I looked at Ms. Fortuner. “We have a little bit of work to do, shall we get on with it?”
“I’m game, Captain,” she said.
“Are we done here?” I looked around the table and seeing some quizzical looks but no objections, I stood, and they stood with me. “Let’s get busy.”
Chapter 45
Telluride System: 2375, November 17
Ms. Fortuner and I made a beeline for the bridge. I knew Ms. Torkelson had the helm watch with Al, which could check one question off the list almost immediately.
Al looked up as we topped the ladder. The expression on my face must have telegraphed something because she immediately smiled. “Something new?” she asked.
“We had some ideas over lunch,” I said. “Ms. Torkelson, how would you like to send a message to your mother?”
“Well, sure, sar, but I don’t have an address for her.”
“If we can find the address?”
“Well, sure, Captain.”
Al frowned until she saw Ms. Fortuner firing up her console. “The buoy,” she said.
“The buoy,” I said. I looked at Ms. Fortuner. “We’d like you to send her a short message and ask her to reply. We’ll pick it off the buoy for you and you’ll be able to read it.”
Ms. Torkelson’s eyes began to shine a little more brightly in the dimness of the bridge. “Seriously, Captain? I mean, you’re not joking? Of course not.” She shook her head. “Sorry, sar. It’s just a bit overwhelming.”
“We need to find her address but be thinking about what to send. Can you do that and still fly this brick?”
She smiled. “Well, sure, sar.”
Mr. Reed popped up the ladder. “Thought you might want my overlay again, Skipper.”
“I do, indeed. Find me a miner if you can.”
“What’s all this then?” Al asked.
“Clearly they know we’re here. At least somebody knows.”
“Because of our shadow?” she asked.
“Yeah. We might not have the range to reach traffic control. We don’t know how far away they are, but we’ve been in-system for days. We’ve bounced radar off every rock in the place. If they were deaf and blind, we wouldn’t have a shadow.”
“So something else is happening,” she said.
“That’s my assumption. We’re going to rattle the cage a little bit and see if we can get anybody to acknowledge us.”
“Then what?” she asked.
“Depends on what shakes out.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” she said.
“I have no idea,” I said. “But I’m willing to listen to advice.”
Al straightened up and stared out at the Deep Dark for a few moments. “I’ve no idea either,” she said after more than a few heartbeats. She looked back at me. “I’m with ya.”
“Any idea what we do if our shadow has teeth?” I kept my voice low.
She squinted at me. “You might want to ask the chief about that.”
Her answer surprised me so much I didn’t know what to say for a moment. “Really?”
Her lips twitched and she raised her eyebrows. “She’s a cagey old bird and she’s been around the Toe-Holds longer than anybody I know.”
“Granted.”
“She also ordered some odd upgrades to the aft nacelle.”
“I didn’t see anything unusual in the bills.”
Al just shrugged. “Maybe just yard gossip.”
“You don’t think so.”
She shrugged again. “You’re the captain.” She grinned at me.
“Skipper, I’ve got a Brill Maclintock in the queue. Only one. No Brilliantine at all.”
I crossed to Ms. Fortuner’s console. “Maybe she got married. Brill isn’t a common name. Any luck with April Torkelson?”
“I’ve got no Torkelsons at all.”
“Try April Showers,” Ms. Torkelson said.
“April Showers?” I asked.
“That was the account name she used for banking. Dah used to tease her about being April May Showers before he made an honest woman of her.”
I nodded to Ms. Fortuner. “See if you can find it.”
She turned to her console and rekeyed her search.
“I have your miner, Skipper,” Mr. Reed said. “Closer than the last one. We’ve drifted closer to the belt.”
“Show me,” I said.
He brought up the scanning data on his console and layered the heat data on top of a scattering of rocks. “Here,” he said, pointing to a fainter looking return. “He’s moving along the belt here. That rock was his last one and it’s already starting to cool a little. This rock was cold yesterday. It’s starting to warm up now.”
“You’ve been tracking this all along?” I asked.
“I figured if they’re living in rocks, they might have some out here in the belts to cut down on transit times. I haven’t seen any yet, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t any.”
“Also doesn’t mean they’re bleeding enough heat to be seen,” I said.
“Also true but it’s an automated scan. Doesn’t cost anything to look,” he said.
“Good thinking.” I patted his shoulder. “Keep an eye on him while we arrange for a greeting.” I went back to Ms. Fortuner’s console. “Find any Showers?” I asked.
She sighed. “I’ve got about twenty of them. None of them April.”
“That seems unusual,” I said.
“That’s what I thought. I don’t know if it’s part of some mining clan or what but I’ve got messages from eighteen different accounts with Showers in the name.”
“Show me.”
She brought up the window with the list. “That one,” I said, pointing to a name half way down.
“You sure?” she asked.
I shrugged. “No, but it’s the one that fits the best. If th
ere were a lot of people named Showers there, she probably had to pick something that would be unique.”
“There’s no April,” she said.
“There’s no April in this list. Doesn’t mean there’s no April in the system. Or that there used to be an April that’s not there anymore.”
“But Morning Showers? Sounds like a weather report.”
“April May. A.M. Antemeridian. It’s an old reference,” I said. “Means before noon.”
“If you say so, Skipper,” she said.
I shrugged. “Ms. Torkelson, you might want to be a little careful about that message. This might not actually be your mother.”
“Thanks for the warning, Captain.”
“Well, sure,” I said.
She laughed.
“What about Brill Maclintock?” Ms. Fortuner asked.
“Can you open a message blank for me?”
She did and stood up. “Help yourself, Skipper.”
I wrote:
I’ve got a load of cold beef. Where do you want it?
Changed any algae matrix lately?
Trust Lois.
“Call me Ishmael”
I stood up and waved Ms. Fortuner back into the chair. “If you’d put Ms. Maclintock’s address on that and tag my return on it, Ms. Fortuner?”
“Of course, Skipper.” She paused, reading the message. “Really?” she asked, looking from the message blank to me and back again. “How well do you know this woman?”
“Haven’t seen her in decades but she was my second boss as a spacer.”
“How long ago was that?” she asked.
“I think I joined her environmental crew in ’52? ’53? I’m not sure, to be honest. I signed The Articles in mid-August of ’51 but I didn’t lateral to engineering until the next year. Last I saw Brill, she was getting on the shuttle to leave the academy in ’55.”
“That’s twenty stanyers, Skipper. You sure she’ll remember you?”
I chuckled. “I’m not even sure that’s the right woman, but if it is, she’ll remember.”
She gave me one more skeptical arch of the eyebrow but copied the heading off a message in her queue and sent it.
“Ms. Torkelson? A short message?” I said.
“I’m on the helm, Skipper.”
I crossed the bridge and tapped her right shoulder. “I relieve you, Ms. Torkelson.”
She looked at me, her eyes wide. “You’re the captain, Captain. You can’t relieve me.”
I laughed. “Why not?”
“Are you qualified on helm, sar?”
“I’ve been known to fly a brick or two in my day, Ms. Torkelson. It’s only for a couple of ticks while you write a note to your mum. I promise not to break anything.”
She looked at Al. “Is this legal, sar?”
“He’s the captain.” Al lowered her voice like I wasn’t standing right next to her. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”
Ms. Torkelson stood and I slid into the seat, taking the helm controls. “Ms. Fortuner has a message blank for you. Hurry back,” I said.
She took the few steps across the bridge, keeping her head cranked around watching me as if I might suddenly flip the ship over. She sat, typed a few lines, smiled to Ms. Fortuner, and scurried back to the helm. “Thank you, Captain.” She tapped me on the right shoulder. “I relieve you.”
I stood up and she sat down, scanning the helm controls.
“I didn’t change anything,” I said.
She glanced up at me. “Standard procedure, Captain. Just making sure the ship is on course with the proper orientation on resuming a watch.”
“Thank you for your diligence, Ms. Torkelson.”
“Well, sure, Captain.”
I looked at Al who smiled and shrugged.
“How soon before we unload those messages to a buoy, Ms. Fortuner?”
“Next buoy should be in range within a stan, Captain.” She tapped a couple of keys. “Outgoing queue set to flash with ship ident as soon as we’re in range.”
“Thank you, Ms. Fortuner. If you’d set up a voice channel. Full dispersion on the common hailing frequency?”
“Of course, Captain.” She closed a few windows and opened a couple of others. “Ambient in three, two ...” she pointed to me with her index finger.
“All ships, all ships. This is the solar slipper Chernyakova calling all ships. Over.” I nodded to Ms. Fortuner and she clicked a key.
“Channel secured, Captain.”
“Thank you, Ms. Fortuner. Now we wait. While we do that, do you think you can find that warbly bit of radio spectrum we heard when we got here?”
“It’s in my log, Skipper. One tick.” She flipped pages on the console screen and nodded. “Yes, Captain. I have it.”
“Please record about a stan’s worth of that sound.”
“A whole stan, Skipper?” she asked.
“That should be enough, yes,” I said.
She glanced at Mr. Reed on the next console who just shrugged.
“Record a whole stan of this channel noise. Aye, aye, Captain,” Ms. Fortuner said.
“You don’t have to listen to it,” I said. “Just drop it into a file.”
“Aye, Captain.” She flipped some more screens and I watched her patch the channel into a capture buffer.
“Where are we on the shadow, Mr. Reed?”
“We’ll be inside one light-minute in another day, Captain. He’s still on intercept course.”
“Ms. Fortuner, open channel again please?” I said.
“Opening channel, Skipper. Three, two ...” she pointed to me.
“All ships. All ships. This is the solar clipper Chernyakova. Over.” I nodded to her and she clicked the key.
“Channel secured, Captain.”
“What do you think is going to happen, Skipper?” Al asked.
“I expect nothing will happen,” I said. “At least for a while. I hope that miner down there will answer me.”
“Why would he?” Al asked.
“Just to find out what I want.”
She laughed. “Think that will work?”
I shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe.”
“Skipper?” Ms. Fortuner said. “I’m getting a maser beam incoming. Commercial protocol but weak.”
“Can you get a bearing on it?”
“It looks like it might be coming from the belt. I’m getting a dish on it now.”
The speaker in the overhead crackled a little before going silent.
“He’s still there,” Ms. Fortuner said.
“Chernyakova. Watch your six.”
The speaker snapped and Ms. Fortuner shook her head. “He’s gone.”
“That was eerie,” Mr. Reed said.
“Was that a man or a woman’s voice?” Al asked.
“Hard telling at that distance with that much distortion,” I said. “I couldn’t tell.”
“What was the message? Watch your six?” Ms. Fortuner asked.
“You recorded it, right?” I asked.
Ms. Fortuner bit her lip. “Sorry, Skipper. I didn’t think. It surprised me.”
I sighed. “No matter. I got the message.”
“Watch your six?” Ms. Fortuner asked again.
“It means watch your back,” Al said. “It was a warning.”
“Where are we on the buoy?” I asked.
She consulted her screen. “Five ticks, plus or minus a little, Skipper. We don’t have fixed positions on them. I’m going by the spacing on the last three.”
“Let me know when the messages are away.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.”
“What do we do now?” Al asked.
“We wait,” I said. “And I think I need to go talk to the chief.”
“You want us to do anything here?” Mr. Reed asked. “Maybe look for another miner?”
“Keep your scans going, Mr. Reed. While you’re at it, run up a burn to get us back on our exit vector. Get us back on that vector and then load the jump coordinates.”
He frowned. “Back on vector. Loaded jump coordinates. Aye, aye, Captain.”
Al nodded to me as I left the bridge and headed down the spine to find out if my chief engineer was moonlighting as my chief weapons officer.
Chapter 46
Telluride System: 2375, November 17
The chief looked up from her terminal when I stepped into her office. “Hello, Captain. How are things up front?”
“Gotta tick?” I asked.
Her eyebrows danced up a bit but she nodded. “Sure. Have a seat.”
I slipped the door closed, which got her eyebrows dancing even higher on her head.
“We got a transmission. Maser from the belt. A warning,” I said. “Watch your six.”
“Maser, huh?”
“Standard commercial protocols. Right on the edge of its range. Bad distortion.”
“Mr. Reed’s miner?”
“Maybe. Came from the right direction.”
“You poking the bear?” she asked.
“I put out an open call to all ships.”
She bit her lower lip and shrugged. “As sticks go, that’s not real sharp.”
“Me or the stick?”
She laughed. “Both. Any luck on the messages?”
“They’re on their way in a few. We’re coming into range for the next buoy.”
“What else are we doing?”
“I’ve got Ms. Fortuner recording about a stan’s worth of that encrypted channel.”
She sat back in her chair. “That’s different. Do you know what it is?”
I shook my head. “Somebody’s running an encrypted link. It’s the only one in the system that shows on the spectrum analysis.”
“It’s not High Tortuga, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she said.
“I’m not surprised.”
“Surprised about what? That it’s not the channel, or that I know it’s not?”
“Both,” I said with a grin. “I’m no expert but if I were going to do it, I’d rely on a random frequency distribution scheme and not broadcast a single point of failure.”
“Single point of failure?” she asked.
“What happens to that stream if we broadcast that recorded channel back on top of itself?”
She winced. “Depending on signal strength, it might knock it down. At least keep whoever is receiving from actually receiving for as long as you broadcast it. Are you going to do that?”
To Fire Called (A Seeker's Tale From The Golden Age Of The Solar Clipper Book 2) Page 31
