Corvus Ascending

by Dale Sale

  “So, let me summarize, Stanski, tore up the All Hands Club. Her employers are suspected of carrying plague. I can’t even list everything they will charge you with Gus,” said the lawyer sarcastically. “Let me get to work on this. I’ll be back, but Gus, you better have a whole sack of those pearls.”

  Chapter Eight

  Fiona wandered the passageways of Terne Station pondering her next move. She was in far over her head. Getting Nan Stanski out of the brig was familiar legal territory though, so she concentrated on that first.

  Nan said she had gone to the Club to try to talk to the station XO about the miner’s quarantine and things had escalated.

  Well, maybe there are some witnesses at the Club that can fill me in on the details that these reports usually leave out. First, I need an outfit that promotes talking.

  Everything was back to normal at the club, except for the broken video wall. The regulars had settled in by the time she arrived. Heads turned when she entered.

  I must still clean up pretty well

  Fiona had cleaned up extremely well! She had stopped at a shop for an outfit change. Her deep auburn hair now hung in loose curls framing her heart-shaped face. Tastefully applied makeup and subtle red lipstick complemented her complexion perfectly. She wore a crisp white shirt, opened just a touch, a light gold chain peeked out. Her tight dark asymmetrical skirt and red heels finished the look.

  Thanks for the expense account, Gusty.

  Fiona went directly to the bar. Bartenders always have the real story, and she could usually get them to spill it.

  “Lagavulin, rocks,” as she slid into a seat in front of the tall slim bartender and dropped her cred chip.

  Besides, it’s for research.

  The bartender raised an eyebrow, “Nice choice” he complimented. “I’m Mike.”

  “Fiona,” she replied, extending her hand slightly, still making him reach for it.

  Mike asked, “What brings you to our forgotten corner of the system?”

  Fiona sipped her scotch. “A friend of mine is in some trouble, and I’m here to see if I can help her. I’m sure it is some kind of misunderstanding.” Fiona looked deeply at Mike to soften him up.

  “I think she was in here last night. Marine type, blonde, a little rough around the edges.”

  Mike whistled. “Oh yeah, won’t forget her soon.”

  “Why, what happened?” Fiona leaned in.

  “She came in looking for the XO. They were a couple of rounds into the evening. Looked to me like they were hitting it off okay,” Mike winked.

  Nan had conveniently omitted that part.

  “Well, I guess things didn’t stay friendly?” Fiona asked, probing.

  “A group of Dragger’s Raiders came in. Full of piss and paychecks,” said Mike. “We weren’t their first stop of the night and they had left their better judgement a few bars behind. A couple of them got a little fresh. The XO and your friend were ignoring them until one of them grabbed your friend.”

  “Let me guess, DeWitt didn’t like the competition?”

  “Ha, Fred, I mean Lt. DeWitt can shrink the dick of a drunken sky-raider all by herself,” Mike said. “She got the lead idiot by his short hairs and marched him right out the door.”

  “Your friend started laughing, and that pissed off his buddies. That’s when things turned ugly,” he continued. “One of the Raiders threw a punch that the blonde easily deflected into someone else. That guy spun around and clocked a random Raider who fell back into a third table. After that it was pretty much fists and feet flying.”

  “Hmm, then why is Nan in jail?” asked Fiona, taking another sip of her scotch’s throat-burning peaty goodness.

  “DeWitt flew back into the fray in full XO mode. She had her capper out and started laying down Raiders left and right. I put down the last two, but not before they had pitched the blonde through my VR screen.” Mike gestured over his shoulder at the still broken equipment. “Captain Grey is a big rollerball fan and as it stands now, he won’t be able to watch the finals here on Sunday.”

  “So, this boils down to someone can’t see rollerball on Sunday?”

  “Grey is really serious about his rollerball.” Mike shrugged as he polished a glass.

  Fiona finished her drink. “Thanks Mike, where can I find Fredrika DeWitt?”

  Chapter Nine

  Lieutenant Fredrika DeWitt sat in her office with a giant mug of black coffee, sweet ration roll, and a hangover. A bruise on her forehead was peeking through the makeup she rarely wore. She touched it gingerly. That Raider had caught her with a lucky punch.

  Fred chuckled to herself, sipped the coffee, and tore a hunk of ration off with her teeth. She didn’t know why everyone complained about them. She thought it was a lot better than the kernza porridge she grew up with on Ransom.

  A pile of tablets cluttered her desk. Monitor screens wrapped around it. The center one showed what little information still existed about the Imperial Confederation. She was looking for any clues about Gus’s ship.

  “Oh, the glamorous life of Command,” she said to no one in her affected posh accent, “I’ve got to get out of here!” She began muttering about her to do list.

  They had sent Harrison Grey to Terne Station for being greedy and sloppy. It was one thing to skim from Fleet Operations, Fleet tolerated a certain amount of graft. It kept the wheels of the vast organization turning smoothly. However, Grey had discovered too late that dipping into a Senior Officer’s luxury shipment was a dangerous business.

  DeWitt, on the other hand, was exiled for the opposite reason. Her previous CO thought she was a little too honest and knew too much about his side dealings. So, he had arranged a dead-end transfer for her. She might have to push papers here forever. Terne wasn’t known for getting you promotions.

  Right now, however, there was way too much happening on a station that should be a backwater.

  The scout patrols still hadn’t picked up a trace of Johansson’s escaped ship. She didn’t believe it really fled, not with her captain cooling in the brig.

  Those pesky quarantined miners were petitioning for release. Claiming, they had diplomatic protection from some place called Matria.

  Major Dragger was demanding the release of the Raiders involved in the brawl. The Marine was the obvious one to pin the blame on, but DeWitt thought she was cute; besides, the Raiders had started it.

  Finally, Grey was going to blow a gasket when he heard that he couldn’t watch this week’s rollerball match at the club.

  Her left screen let out a bing. “Oh great, just what I needed. Someone ordered the last of the Captain’s favorite scotch and the shipment is delayed,” DeWitt said out loud.

  “That last one may have been my fault,” said a voice from the doorway. Fiona Patrick tapped on the door frame as she eased inside the cramped space. “Do you know that you talk to yourself?”

  Lt. DeWitt assumed her Command Voice, “Excuse me? May I help you?”

  “I hope so. I’d like to talk to you about my clients Gunner Nancy Stanski and CWO Guster Johannsson. I’m their lawyer, Fiona Patrick.” She extended a hand.

  DeWitt eyed Fiona with distrust, “Ex-Gunner and retired CWO. Rather unfortunate end for those two. I see from Stanski’s service jacket they drummed her out. Now she has resorted to taking mercenary work and brawling.”

  Fiona waved her hand and smiled. “Oh, come now Lieutenant, we both know Gunner Stanski is still on terminal leave; subject to all the rights, consideration, and privileges that entails. Which I believe includes personal recognizance in lieu of bail.”

  Actually, Fredrika was blindsided. She hadn’t gotten to that section of Nan’s record.

  “No need to show off here, Ms. Patrick. Can the Gunner cover the damages to the Club? That would clear up this little misunderstanding. It would also get one mess off my plate.”

  Fiona had already been busy this morning. After a power nap in a pod hotel, she checked on HAM hiding in the Motor Cargo Boat
and discovered that the little bot had a whole sack of pearls stashed. A quick station register scan led her to a sleepy pawn shop owner who was more than happy to make an early morning off-the-books cryptocredit deposit to her account.

  Fiona said, “I’ve already met with Mike and know how much the damages are Lieutenant. We agree to cover half the damages just to clear this up quickly. That should be enough to get the VR screen repaired before Sunday’s roll-off time. I’m sure that Major Dragger will cover his Raiders’ share.” Fiona leaned against the door frame and ruffled her curls with one hand. “Say, have you got any more of that coffee? I’m not much of a morning person.” Fiona squeezed through the door and eased into the chair facing the desk.

  Lt. Fredrika DeWitt couldn’t help smiling. “I think I can find another cup, what else is on your mind?”

  “Now about CWO Johansson?” Fiona began.

  Chapter Ten

  A guard yelled from the brig door, “Stanski, you’re free to go.”

  Nan bounced to her feet. “That woman is a miracle worker! I don’t know how she managed it, and right now I’m not asking.”

  She called over her shoulder as she headed past the guard, “Don’t worry Gusty, I’m sure you will be out soon too.”

  “I hope so, gonna lose my girlish figure eating this prison chow. Have Fiona concentrate on that trinket I found on the beach,” Gus said.

  Fiona was waiting outside the brig. “Hello, care for some brunch?”

  The lawyer steered them through the station labyrinth toward a small diner nearby. The duo ordered breakfast.

  “Ms. Patrick, I don’t know how to repay you,” Nan began.

  “Well, right now it’s Gus you will need to thank,” she said with a chuckle. “He’s paying the bills so far.”

  “What did you have to promise that asshat Grey to get me out?”

  Fiona winked. “I’m working with your friend, DeWitt. She seemed pretty easy to convince that you aren’t a danger to good order and discipline.”

  “Hey, that drink with Fredrika was all business!”

  “Fredrika, huh? You don’t need to explain yourself to me,” Fiona held up her hands in surrender.

  “Fiona, how much do DeWitt and Grey know about Gus’ ship?” asked Nan.

  Fiona said, “I don’t think they know much at this point. Other than the obvious, it’s very fast, untraceable, and should not exist.”

  Nan speared her eggs. “That’s pretty much all we know about it too, I guess. How do we get aboard? Gus mentioned a trinket he found on the beach. Does that mean anything to you?”

  The lawyer set down her coffee and said, “I think I know what he means. I need to introduce you to someone.”

  Grey slammed into his office chair and reached for the decanter of scotch on his desk. “DeWitt, tell me what happened to that ship.” Mitzi had started in on him early this morning and he needed a drink.

  The Lieutenant said, “Whatever that thing is made of renders it invisible to our sensors.”

  “Bullshit!” answered the red-faced Captain. “No ship can do that. Track the drive trail?”

  DeWitt said, “They shut down their drive. They may still be in the area.”

  “So how does an old drunk like Johansson get a ship like that?”

  “That is a good question, Captain.”

  Fredrika could see the wheels turning in Grey’s greedy head. If the Governance could duplicate this stealth technology, the Fleet would be invincible. Able to strike anywhere at any time. They could finally dominate the other Core Worlds. Whoever delivered that ship to the Admiralty could name their price. Grey might finally get his much-coveted Flag.

  Grey tented his fingers and said, “DeWitt, I will be handling Chief Warrant Officer Johansson’s interrogation personally.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Fiona Patrick and Nan reached the station docking bays.

  Nan asked as she ran an appreciative hand over the MCB resting in the hanger, “Where did Gus get this?”

  Fiona answered, “This is one of the ship’s boats, I’m told. I haven’t seen the ship yet.”

  She paused to allow the recognition camera to read her face, and the door opened.

  Fiona stepped inside and called, “It’s okay, come on out. This is Gus’s friend.”

  HAM glided from hiding and greeted them with two arms in the gesture Namste. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss.”

  Nan cocked her head and asked, “What is this?”

  The bot seemed insulted, “I am not a what, Miss, I am a who. Imperial Confederation General Repair and Maintenance Protocol bot service designation HAM2F347791 to be specific, but you may call me HAM, that is how the Skipper addresses me.”

  “He is a cheeky little devil. Personal pronouns and everything.” Fiona added.

  “Skipper?” Stanski asked.

  HAM said, “Yes, it seems that Captain Johansson doesn’t want to stand on ceremony and has asked to be referred to as Skipper. I’m not sure about his feelings on the term ‘The Old Man’ quite yet.”

  Nan chuckled. “Yeah, I wouldn’t use that one if I were you.”

  Fiona asked, “HAM, are you able to contact your ship?”

  “Oh, yes, Miss! Does that mean the Skipper will be joining us shortly? I do hope that all this incarceration business is behind us soon. We have been waiting ever so long to get underway, and I’m sure the delay is rather chafing Flight. He is probably ready to be off. Flight CIs are known for being rather impatient.”

  “No, the Skipper is still in trouble HAM and we will need help if we are to get him out. Is there a crew aboard your ship?” asked Fiona.

  “I’m sorry, Miss, everything has happened so fast.” HAM said. “There is only me, Flight, and GRANNe available.”

  “That ship is going to need more hands to keep it flying. Maybe I can find some old shipmates desperate enough to cross ‘Hazy Grey,’ said Nan.

  “Okay,” said Fiona. “I’m going to make a few calls to some Admiralty Law experts I know. This case is becoming more complicated by the minute.”

  Nan said, “That all sounds good, HAM can you stay hidden for now? Let’s meet back here at 2200 to discuss our progress.”

  An hour later Nan was prowling the station’s market district. She didn’t expect to find what she needed on open display, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t be available. You just needed to know what and who to look for.

  She didn’t need weapons. Nan had already stocked adequate gear in the miner’s transport. She was more interested in the “who.” Someone that could deal weapons right under Grey’s nose. Those skills were rare.

  Nan paused in front of a shop with metal cookware in the window. She casually noticed the clue she was looking for: a Norse Mjolnir hung from the ceiling. Nan pushed open the door and tripped a bell.

  A short olive-skinned woman came from the back room as Nan browsed the crowded shelves. She wore her long salt and pepper black hair in a tight single braid. She didn’t move like a shop keeper; she was almost feline. Her loose shirt and trousers couldn’t hide the knotted, lean muscles flexing along her limbs. Her attempt to look like a Sicilian grandmother didn’t fool Nan.

  Bingo!

  “May I help you?” inquired the little woman.

  Nan plucked a long thin boning knife from a display. “Yes, I’m looking for something for delicate work.” She expertly twirled the blade in an intricate pattern, passing it from hand to hand. “Maybe a vintage piece, with character and history?”

  She slid the knife back into place with a final flourish. As Nan leaned forward, she deftly slid up her right sleeve to reveal the tattoo of Mjolnir on her own forearm.

  The woman’s eyes flickered down. “We have a variety of items looking for new homes,” she answered.

  “I prefer tested and proven goods. I’m not interested in the latest new thing. What I seek may have been discarded by those not recognizing true value.”

  The woman raised an eyebrow. “Are you see
king goods or services?”

  “Services actually, someone adept in acquiring the unattainable,” said Nan.

  “Nice ink. That is a very special tattoo, it should only be worn by those who have earned it.”

  A feint to the right and a blade flashed. She paused with a small dagger near Nan’s temple.

  The small woman looked down and grinned at a blade Nan had poised between her breasts.

  “Oh baby, I’ve earned it,” Nan replied.

  They both fell into laughter. Nan sheathed her blade and smothered the woman with a hug, “Auntie Zia Forte, the last person I would have thought to find here.”

  “I could say the same for you, Gunner. Aren’t you supposed to be dropping into some forgotten backwater to ruin someone’s day?”

  “My story is best told over a cold beer. Auntie, last I heard you had promoted to Warrant Supply Officer for the 4th Fleet.”

  Zia sighed. “That is true, however, I did not choose my business partners carefully enough. And so, ”spreading her hands, “I am now a humble shopkeeper.”

  “Bullshit!” laughed Nan, “You were never humble.”

  “Oh, dear friend, you wound me,” she said, clutching her heart and smiling. “Now, what could I possibly have that would be needed by the most fierce Gunner to ever wear the mark of Mjolnir?”

  “Well, you old ass kisser, actually, what I need is you. An old shipmate of ours is in trouble once again and needs rescue. Gus Johansson.”

  “Gusty? I heard he swallowed the anchor. You mean he’s in the brig here? Harrison Grey’s brig? On the Wrong Turn?”

  Nan nodded. “Yep, only Gus could get himself into situation like this.” Her accent leaking out.

  “Do you think Grey is still holding a grudge about that whole sister thing?”

  “Wouldn’t you be?”

  “Fair enough.” Zia shrugged. “I’ve got a vendetta for that bastard Grey myself. It is because of him that I’m stuck hawking pots and pans.”