Corvus Ascending

by Dale Sale

  Nan said, “So, you looking for new opportunity?”

  “If you have a way off this buco di merda, then I’m listening! As long as you don’t criticize my cooking?”

  “Fat chance. My idea of cooking is a self-heating MRE.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “May I ask who I have the pleasure of meeting?” HAM asked Nan.

  “Former Fleet Logistics Warrant Zia Forte, best scrounger and deal maker that ever skimmed an inventory. She shares our dislike for Captain Harrison Grey.”

  HAM saluted, and he finished with a twirl, “I am pleased to make your acquaintance Auntie Strong,” HAM interpreted. “I’m sure you will find the ship an outstanding billet.”

  “Don’t try to impress me, little robot, when can I get aboard?” asked Zia.

  HAM sighed. “Alas, although I am in contact with the ship, I’m afraid it must remain hiding from Captain Grey. It appears he means to take custody of it and probably me too if I am caught.” He stopped, cocked his head and said, “Ms. Forte your bag appears to be moving on its own.”

  Zia grinned. “Oh, she is just curious.”

  “Who is curious?” wondered HAM.

  “Ophelia.”

  A screeching gray head with large round eyes and a pink nose popped out of the bag at the mention of her name.

  HAM lurched back. “Ma’am, you have a rodent infestation in your luggage!”

  “Careful little bot, you will insult my girl,” Zia reached down and lifted the fuzzy bundle into her arms, “Ophelia isn’t a rodent, she is a marsupial.”

  “Oh, a Didelphis Virginiana, the Virginia Opossum, from the Greek for ‘two wombs,’ semi-boreal marsupial native to Old Earth’s North American continent,” HAM spouted. “I do hope she is housebroken; I have enough maintenance to do as it is.”

  “You will find Ophelia very useful; she is excellent at accessing small crawlways, and a small gene edit has made her exceptionally smart. She helps me with special acquisitions,” said Zia. “And she hunts rats!”

  “My ship does not have rats!”

  “See, she is already excellent at her job,” Zia said as she affectionately scratched Ophelia’s furry head.

  Ophelia looked suspiciously at HAM and hissed. She finished by sticking out her tongue.

  HAM rolled back. “Well, I never!”

  Gus rubbed his weary eyes and laid the reader on the hard brig bench. Well, I’ve got those ship specs memorized. I still don’t know how I’m going to use them being locked in here, though.

  A man sat down next to Gus and said, “I see your friend still hasn’t come through for you.”

  Gus had noticed him before. Old training had him constantly sizing up all threats. Gus still wasn’t sure this guy was a threat, but he definitely could be. Late twenties, dark caramel skin, short curly hair, clean shaven, tall and solid, and he moved like he had trained. Grifter, spy, thief, mercenary. Gus ticked through the possibilities and couldn’t decide.

  The man continued, “My friends seem to have forgotten me too. Drake Sheridan,” He held out his hand.

  Gus took it warily; it was hard and callused in an odd way. “Gus Johansson,” Gus knew that troublemakers were always the first ones to chat you up. “What have they got you on?”

  “Vagrancy, actually, seems my paychecks stopped being credited after I got discharged.”

  “What branch?”

  “Orbital Guard,”

  “Oh.” Gus paused. The Orbital Guard was the smallest and least prestigious of the Governance Armed Forces and looked on as poor relations by the other services. They spent most of their time rescuing idiots in trouble, setting up navigation satellites, and vainly trying to curb smuggling with outdated and outgunned patrol boats. How big a screwup do you need to be to get kicked out of the Guard? Gus wondered to himself.

  Drake spoke before Gus could say anything, “Yeah, I’ve seen that look before, I can smell regular Navy a mile away. For your information, I chose not to re-up. I was bored to tears, I tried to get better billets but just couldn’t. Every time I requested transfer, my command said I was ‘too valuable’ which translated to ‘We can’t find anyone else dumb enough to take this billet, so too bad.’ Now, I’m blackballed. I can’t even get a scullery job on a tramp freighter out of here. I’m too stubborn to re-enlist now though.”

  Gus considered the story. “Got any ink?” If this guy was for real, he had at least one service tattoo.

  Drake shrugged and rolled up a sleeve. On his substantial bicep, an old-time astronaut rode a bucking spaceship while lassoing a satellite. The astronaut even wore a cowboy hat with an antenna on his helmet and a six-shooter.

  “Sweet ink,” said Gus. Also, pretty elaborate if it’s a con.

  “Well, I don’t have enough credits to get it removed.”

  “Never regret your choices! Besides, I’ve known a few ladies that actually preferred Orbies. Claimed they tried harder to impress,” said Gus.

  Drake laughed. “We always said we kept your ladies warm when the Fleet deployed.”

  “Ouch.” I like this kid.

  Drake said, “I showed you mine, you show me yours.”

  Gus rolled his sleeve to reveal the Mjolnir surrounded by rings of battle stars.

  The young man blinked and stared at Gus. “No shit? You’re one of those guys?”

  “Hell kid, I started that outfit.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The door to Lt. Fredrika DeWitt’s office hissed open. Nan Stanski entered as her two giant escorts waited outside.

  “Gunner, so nice of you to come,” said the Lt. seated at her now clean desk.

  Nan responded, “Wasn’t like I had a choice.” She placed her fists on the desk and leaned in, “I thought we were getting along so well before that little scuffle too.”

  Fredrika smiled. “Sorry about the escort. I need to keep things looking official.”

  “Well, if you wanted a date, you could have just asked.”

  “Maybe later. Your friend Johansson is in real danger,” Fredrika said.

  Nan threw up her hands, “Yeah, you got him locked in your fucking brig!”

  Fredrika said, “And he needs to escape.”

  Nan shrugged. “What? Just let him go. Give him a fine for operating an unregistered ship and call it done.”

  “I wish! Captain Grey wants Johansson’s ship badly. He is going to ‘question’ Johannsson until he gets it too. Your friend is about to be ‘disappeared.’”

  “Not many Governance officers have a conscience these days. What’s your cut?”

  “Hey, I’m trying to help here,” Fredrika said defensively. “Grey has gone too far this time. All he cares about is using that ship for an Admiral’s flag and he doesn’t care how many people he has to hurt. I’ve known he was a piece of shit for a long time, but I can’t go along with this.”

  Nan was wary. “So, I’m supposed to believe you want to space your career just to help Gus? I think this is a ploy.”

  “Look, I know you don’t have any reason to trust me. There are quite a few of us on board that hate Grey. Between his kickback schemes and mistreatment of civilians, I’ve got a few allies in strategic places,” Fredrika said. “We need to act fast. Grey is going to transfer Johansson to the Erebus as soon as it arrives from the Iz worlds. We’ve got about twelve hours.”

  Nan lifted the comm on her wrist to her mouth, “Zia, is the Erebus inbound to the station?”

  Zia replied, “The AIS plot shows Erebus is using a fast transit plan for the station, estimated arrival just under twelve hours. They are in a big hurry.”

  Nan turned. “Maybe you’re not completely full of shit el tee. You fuck me on this, and I will personally gut you.”

  “I’d expect nothing less.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Fiona Patrick wandered the corridors of Terne Station and mused. She still didn’t understand why Nan Stanski’s miners had been blackballed. Fredrika DeWitt refused to discuss the case, only sayi
ng that the decision to quarantine them had been made far above her pay grade.

  DeWitt had acted really strangely when pressed on the situation. Were they a cult of computer worshiping axe murderers?

  Fiona had gotten the address of the miner’s ship from Nan and was nearly there. Lt. DeWitt had grudgingly agreed to allow the lawyer aboard after Fiona threatened to cause a fuss. A couple of bored security types stationed at the docking access hatch quickly scanned her ID before opening the connecting tunnel. It didn’t seem like anyone was really worried about the miner’s spreading a highly contagious disease.

  She was met at the tunnel’s end by a slim young woman wearing a light blue long sleeve tunic with an elaborate design woven into the shoulders, blue trousers with a light blue seam stripe and a dark blue belt around the waist. It didn’t look like the sort of thing a miner would wear.

  The woman introduced herself as “Pela of House Custos” and turned to open the ship’s hatch. A tall elegant dark-skinned woman with a shaved head stood just inside the opening. Her high cheekbones accented her unlined middle-aged face. She was dressed in a similar uniform but with no shoulder design. A jeweled star gleamed on the left breast pocket.

  “Consul presenting Ms. Fiona Patrick. She comes highly recommended from Chief Warrant Officer Stanski. Ms. Patrick, may I introduce Sidra, CEO of the Sirace Mining Corporation, Chief Consul of Matria, and Matriarch of House Littera.”

  “Excuse me, did you say, matriarch?” asked Fiona incredulously.

  “Put away your shock child,” chided Sidra, “We are not as dangerous as popular rumor would have you believe.”

  “Well, now I know why Fredrika DeWitt was so cagey about your situation.”

  Pela snorted. “They treat us like we carry plague.”

  “Can you blame them, my dear?” replied Sidra, “We upset the order of their little closed-minded corner of the galaxy.”

  “I’m sorry, Chief Consul. I thought that matriarchs were a vid-drama legend.” said Fiona.

  “Well, I consider myself to be legendary, however, I’m not quite passing into history yet,” the Matriarch said with a gentle laugh. “It is true that we chose to withdraw from Iz inner system politics when general opinion moved against us. We are perfectly happy in our obscurity, mining the Rings of Ix and her many asteroids. A drive failure on this ship forced us to seek assistance on Terne Station. Captain Grey has decided that we are to be quarantined until he can determine we are not dangerous. I believe he means to keep us here until the docking fees exceed the value of our ship so that we will abandon it to him.”

  “This is going to complicate things tremendously,” said Fiona. “How many people do you have here?”

  Pela said, “This vessel is the Littera House personal yacht. We keep it disguised as a mining transport to avoid undue attention. Our crew is only eight, including myself and the Consul.”

  “We thought our repair plan was satisfactorily arranged. However, we have been in limbo since our arrival. It seems that the Governance does not approve of our philosophy regarding interaction between the sexes. I believe our quarantine is to prevent what they view as our dangerously subversive culture from ‘infecting’ others on the station.” Sidra began a stately walk down the corridor. “Come with me, my dear? We have much to discuss.”

  Pela took up station behind them.

  Inside, the ship was definitely not a mining transport. The bulkheads were painted in muted pastels dotted with beautiful paintings, careful calligraphy scrolls, and woodcuts. Sidra led them into the elegant, richly paneled wardroom of the Artemis. A highly polished table of real wood was centered in the space. A large hologram display of what appeared to be an ancient Greek temple above a city of white stone houses with green fields in the background adorned the far wall. The trees swayed in a gentle breeze and chatting citizens moved gracefully through stately gardens.

  “Would you care for some tea?” asked Sidra. She moved to a serving station set into the bulkhead.

  Fiona was impressed by it all. “Yes, thank you. This is the fanciest transport I’ve ever seen.”

  Pela said, “We keep the exterior plain to avoid attention.”

  “If you can’t enjoy your surroundings, then what’s the point?” added Sidra. She gestured to the hologram. “You should visit our capital of Themiscyra once this business is concluded. We always have room for people that know how to interact with the outside worlds.”

  Fiona asked, “That’s Matria? It looks like something from ancient Earth.”

  “I would recommend a visit during Beltane,” Pela said with a wide smile. “You would be a favorite with those curls.”

  “Now Pela, we do not know Ms. Patrick’s feelings about our customs. Perhaps she isn’t as free with her affections as we are.” Sidra said.

  Fiona was puzzled. “What customs? I don’t really know much about Matriarchs, but it certainly looks lovely.”

  Sidra said, “Beltane is the celebration of the wedding of the Goddess and the Green Man. It occurs in the Spring when the world is bursting with life. The feast ends with a late-night dance. The final dance is always ‘Pair of Doves Until the Morning.’”

  Pela said, “And it is always lady’s choice! Oh, don’t forget about the hand fasting.”

  “Patience, please,” Sidra said. “Yes, the hand fasting. The lady chooses her partner and binds their hands together for the dance.”

  “And they are bound for the remainder of the night,” Pela added.

  Fiona was a little shocked. “You mean they spend the rest of the night…”

  Sidra said, “Together. It really is a lovely time.”

  “Don’t people just pick their marriage partner?”

  Pela snorted and said, “What would be the fun of that? Besides, we don’t have marriage on Matria. At least not the way you mean.”

  Sidra said, “We prefer to keep things, I will just call it ‘more casual’.”

  Fiona took a sip of her tea. “Well, I guess not everything in those vid dramas were a fiction.”

  Pela said, “No orgies though. Gotta draw the line somewhere.” She laughed as Fiona choked on her tea.

  Fiona’s wrist comm vibrated.

  “Fiona, this is Stanski, we’ve got a problem. Our timetable has pushed up. Package must be picked up within twelve hours or it will be destroyed in Customs.”

  Sidra looked amused and sipped her tea. “Some sort of code, I presume.”

  Fiona answered, “Yes, the man who hired me is being held in the brig and it sounds like we need to get him out right away.”

  Sidra nodded. “Well then, since you have so graciously gotten us our Gunner Stanski back, may we be of some assistance?”

  “Are you sure we should get involved, Chief Consul?“ Pela asked.

  “My dear, we find ourselves perilously short of friends at this juncture. A good turn may one day be returned,” Sidra said. “Ms. Patrick, I invite your friends to visit us here on the Artemis. We should be safe from prying ears.”

  Nan’s team gathered in the Artemis’s wardroom. They were a motley looking lot that didn’t inspire the Consul and made her wonder if she shouldn’t have given Pela’s skepticism more weight.

  Nan was in nondescript coveralls; Zia still wore her shopkeeper’s outfit. GRANNe’s holo image flickered slightly from the encrypted signal she rode. Somehow, she still maintained a confident professional military presence. HAM nervously rocked back and forth in one corner. Fiona and Pela rounded out the assembly.

  “Well, should we get started?” asked Sidra. “How long do we have before that unpleasant ship arrives?”

  “The Erebus will be here in 7.02 hours,” GRANNe said.

  Sidra said, “This gives us little time.”

  Zia quoted the ancient wisdom of Sun Tzu, “So in war, the way is to avoid what is strong, and strike at what is weak.”

  Sidra picked up the thread and said, “In the midst of chaos, there is also opportunity.”

  “Having inwar
d spies make use of officials of the enemy,” Nan continued.

  Pela added, “The greatest victory is that which requires no battle.”

  GRANNe finished, “Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt.”

  They rose and began to act.

  Chapter Fifteen

  A small ball of paper fell into Gus’s lap. He looked up to see a pink whiskered nose twitching and two small dark eyes looking at him from a grill in the overhead. Hiss, chitter, and gone.

  Gus unrolled the ball. “Soon, be ready. When trouble starts hide under a blanket,” was all it said.

  Gus thrust the note into his pocket.

  Drake Sheridan asked, “What is that all about?”

  “The cavalry is on the way, cowboy.”

  Former Supply CWO Zia Forte moved through the repurposed cargo bay that now functioned as a market, browsing the tables. The area was filled with customers haggling over prices. Grey allowed the market to operate unofficially, of course. Just pay the required “business license fee.”

  Just another sign of how rotten the Governance has become, Zia thought.

  She could see Pela out of the corner of her eye, moving through the market a few rows over with a basket on her arm, dressed like a housewife doing the day’s shopping.

  Zia spoke softly into her comm, “In position, standing by.” Pela glanced in her direction and nodded.

  Nan Stanski came over the comm channel, “Okay, let’s do this. Stay on book.”

  Pela moved deliberately toward Zia. “You skinny little bitch! I told you if I caught you sniffing around my man again what would happen to you.”

  Zia needed, then shouted, “Well, if you could keep him happy, he would stay home, Frosty Thighs!”

  Pela swung the basket. Zia ducked and body checked her opponent into a table, spilling it on the deck. A hoard of youngsters scrambled for the goods littering the ground. The merchant began screaming and waving his arms.