by Greg Curtis
“You did well enough Doctor, more than well enough.”
“And I would say that if you were in that circle of blue detective, you did much better than that. You and your fellow officers showed enormous courage and it's an honour to talk to you.” That was the plain truth. In their shoes he didn't know whether he could have been so brave. He rather thought he would have run screaming.
“You wouldn't have said that three or four months ago!”
“True. But three or four months ago no one would even have known I was on the planet.” Three or four months! Carm let himself be amazed by that. Had it only been that long since it had all fallen apart? It felt as if a lifetime had passed between then and now.
“Sorry, I have to move on.” Carm could see the line of faces ahead looking impatient waiting to shake his hand. So many faces and so many hands. “But I wish you well with your recovery.”
With that he carried on down the line, offering handshakes and being introduced to more people he didn't know and whose names he would never remember, noticing too how far ahead of him the line extended and how relaxed the Provost and the Counsel appeared. They were obviously more familiar with this kind of event. He did his best to at least look as though he knew what he was doing. Not that he thought anyone would believe it.
At the end of the handshake trail, he discovered that he wasn't quite finished. There was a whole new group of people to meet and greet while the two representatives were engaging in diplomacy. The Counsel he saw was still in quiet conversation with the Prime Minister while the Provost was caught up with the head of the New Andreas Merchant’s Guild. Meanwhile Carm found he had his passengers to greet. They were the purpose of the entire mission. The Counsel was with them to make diplomatic connections, the Provost to talk law. His mission was to retrieve the mutes who’d been caught up in the events on Aquaria, and bring them to safety.
Oddly enough the passengers struck him as a better class of people than the majority of functionaries. More real perhaps, people he might even enjoy meeting. They were normal people who’d been thrown into a bad place by an accident of birth.
As he introduced himself and welcomed them onboard, the Nightingale felt much more at ease. He could do this. He could be a bus driver for them. They were here to bring these people home.
“Hi. I'm Carm.” He introduced himself to the first group, a father, mother and three children at a guess, and then without thinking about it offered his hand.
“I'm Gerard and this is my wife Elsie and our children.” The man smiled politely, but also a little sadly, and that was Carm's reminder that as hard as things had been for him, they’d been harder for many others. These people had lost homes and now had to make a new life for themselves on a world they didn't even know. All their worldly possessions were stuffed into a couple of carry bags. And while they might smile politely he felt a sadness in them. The children looked nervous and the parents tired. Chances were that they'd been held by the Navy for some time. The stars only knew what indignities they'd suffered at their hands. They might even have lost family.
“I'm pleased to meet you and welcome you onboard the Nightingale. She's an older ship and never a liner, so I'm afraid you'll find conditions a little primitive and you'll all have to share a cabin. But she's a good ship and the trip will only take a week. So please just follow the marshals and they'll show you to your quarters.”
A marshal stepped forward and held out an arm to guide them back to the ship and up the landing ramp. Seeing them go Carm realised that the first of his guests was boarding and his life had begun a new path. Looking back at the rest of the queue he knew there were many more to come. This was no pleasure cruise – most of these people probably didn't even want to be making the trip. They had no choice – they were refugees, people who through no fault of their own had lost everything. He didn't know them, but he perhaps understood them a little better than he would have liked to.
Carm sighed then continued greeting the passengers while the queue moved forward.
Perhaps a dozen groups into the procession he abruptly found himself staring into a face that he did recognise, a face he instantly hated. It was Maximilian White-Jones. Standing in the queue of passengers waiting to board, flanked by two officers and in restraints, but still looking impossibly smug. And the instant he saw him Carm knew one thing above everything else – he wasn't taking him.
“Oh shards no! He is absolutely not coming onboard.” Carm was absolutely clear on that. Just one look at the industrialist's smug smile was enough to convince him of that.
“But he's on the list,” the naval officer beside White spluttered.
“He's not on my list!” Carm raised his voice with predictable results. The citizen reporters and channel reporters were all suddenly looking his way hearing the commotion, forgetting the conversation between the Counsel and Prime Minister but Carm didn't care. Let them record him. Maybe they should.
“But—”
“No! The others I'll accept. As far as I know they've committed no crimes. But White here has set off two thermo-kinetic charges, killed scores of people and has been involved in who knows how many other crimes. He needs to be arrested, tried, convicted, sentenced, and then locked away in a nice dark underground cell for the rest of his miserable life. His victims need to see justice done.”
Judging from the scowl on his face, Max White didn't agree. In fact he fairly obviously wanted to jump on him and rip his head off. But Carm didn't care. And at least that sharding smile had gone.
“A deal was made.” White decided to get involved, and he didn't sound at all pleased.
“Not by me... and absolutely never with you. The stars will go out before I deal with pond scum like you.”
“Doctor Simons?” Provost Marshal Drummond had joined them and interrupted the argument before it could head any further off-track. No doubt he thought to be the voice of reason and calm everything down. Luck was not on his side.
“I'm not transporting White. Not unless it's to a black hole he can be tossed into. The others I can live with. The six months I can live with, but not this monster. You want him back on Eden Provost Marshal you send another ship for him.”
“That seems a little extreme,” the Provost tried to reason with Carm. Unfortunately for him Carm was not going to be reasonable on the matter.
“I don't care. This man is a true monster. He's everything you mutes were supposed to be and a thousand times worse. The things he's done are beyond understanding. He needs to be arrested and punished for his crimes. And everyone who he's hurt needs to be able to see it. The thought that he should escape his fate is not acceptable. And I will not help this creature escape justice.”
“Creature?!” the person in question unexpectedly yelling at Carm, the smug smile wiped from his face as the true mute appeared. “How dare you!”
“Yes I dare!” Carm yelled straight back at him causing everyone else who hadn't been watching to turn around and stare his way. He even surprised himself. “You're a terrorist! A mass murderer! And you've been profiting off the suffering of others, off your own people. A million credits for a ticket off-world? From the life-savings of others of your kind. And now you think you should get a ticket to escape your own trial? Shards no! Never!
“All of these others are victims of a horrible series of crimes and I will be honoured to bring them to safety. But you, White, I wouldn't put on a garbage scow!”
If White had been upset before, he became far more so, yelling incoherently at him and struggling furiously against his restraints. Carm had no doubt White wanted to kill him. And equally he had no doubt that he didn't want him onboard the Nightingale.
“Officers,” Carm turned to the naval officers escorting White. “Take him back to prison. Throw him in a cell and make sure he doesn't see the light of day until it's time for him to be tried and preferably executed.”
“Ahh?” The two officers made confused sounds as the
y stood there indecisively. No doubt they'd been expecting to get rid of him, but what to do with him was their problem. The Provost wasn't looking pleased. No doubt his plans had been upset. As for White his face had gone white with rage and he'd actually bared his teeth like a wild animal. But at least he was being quiet, probably because he was surrounded by people recording the whole event. And because he was restrained and unable to rip Carm to pieces as he surely wanted to. Carm ignored him.
“And Provost Marshal he also represents a security threat. While Kendra was busy trying to kill me and conceal suspended animation pods on the ship, who knows what else she was doing? She might have installed some codes he could use. Command codes.” It seemed unlikely to Carm – the ship would have detected them but if nothing else it was another good excuse not to have him on the ship. And he absolutely didn't want White on board.
White meanwhile was screaming at him that he was a paranoid dark side botbrain. At least that was what Carm thought he was yelling. He didn't care. He was more worried about the way the mute was shaking the two officers about even in full restraints. Could he escape? The restraints were designed to hold anyone, but there was no doubt he was testing them. Where was a warbot when you needed one he wondered?
“Kendra?” yelled one of the citizen reporters desperately trying to interview him and being held back by the security barriers.
“My android companion.” Carm tried to focus on the question and not the furiously struggling mute. “He reprogrammed her to murder me and convert the Nightingale into a smuggler’s vessel. The stars only know what else she was doing.”
“Your bangbot tried to kill you?” The man's eyes widened appreciably.
Why did the man not know that, Carm wondered? And then he remembered. What little information there was out there about his own journey was mostly second hand and had only been released as they were preparing to come to Aquaria. It was twelve hours old at most. And he hoped that was the reason why none of his family had shown up. They simply hadn't had time to come. Perhaps they hadn't even heard he was here.
“While I was in the sickbay having a piece of wall removed from my shoulder.” Seeing all the floating holo recorders and the all but hysterical citizen reporters, suddenly gave Carm an idea.
“But I'll make you a deal, all you citizen reporters. Find out what's happened to my family and I'll give you an interview when the Nightingale returns. Even a guided tour of the ship.” Would that work? He wasn't certain, but he did know it was motivating a lot of them. He could see the excitement in their faces. In a week or two when he’d returned from Eden he might no longer be the most important thing on the news channels. But for the moment while he was a minor mesh-lord, he thought he might as well use his celebrity.
Meanwhile the restraints had won their battle with the mute, the officers had him by the shoulders and were taking him away. There were half a dozen of them by then, and they were armed, a fact Carm found reassuring. He was still annoyed that they’d brought White there in the first place. Why? What sort of deals had he been making behind the scenes? Of course he knew that there would be no point in asking.
Carm turned back to the queue of passengers waiting to board and gestured for the next to approach. He'd had quite enough of White for the moment, for a lifetime in fact. As the officers led him away, back to a waiting floater where yet more black-clad officers were standing ready, he felt deep satisfaction. Especially when he could see the way White was still struggling in his restraints and muttering angrily at his guards. Carm might have no power here, or even command over his own ship, but he could still do some things.
“Do you have to be so difficult?” Del was suddenly standing beside Carm whispering angrily into his ear.
“That man has stolen from your people, betrayed them and murdered them – probably for many years. He has set off two thermo-kinetic devices killing hundreds of innocent people. Police officers among them. And you want to show him mercy? Shards no! He stands trial and he gets what's owed him.”
“But—”
“No buts!” He turned to face her, cold determination in his eyes. “This is another space-port dock, and I am the Captain of the Nightingale. If you don't like my decisions I'm more than happy to leave you here and let you make your own way home again!”
That shut her up quite quickly, letting Carm return to his passengers. And strangely, while the marshals weren't looking happy with him, nor the politicians or the military officers, his passengers didn't seem that upset. But then they weren't having to share a week-long journey with the criminal who'd robbed them blind and betrayed them. Actually he thought he saw the faintest hint of a smile creeping over some of their faces and felt just the slightest bit of warmth in their handshakes.
At least something was going right.
Chapter Thirty Six
Carm had owned the Nightingale for almost nine years. He knew the ship backwards: every creak it made, every yellow light which occasionally flashed as well as every smell and even the sound of his feet on every floor panel. And even when he'd had passengers on board, that hadn’t changed. But then he'd never had nigh on a hundred passengers before, and with so many running about and getting underfoot nothing about the ship seemed the same. It wasn't actually bad in any way but it felt wrong.
It was the children that were the most difficult to deal with. They were everywhere, running around, making noise and creating chaos. Like all children, they were a distraction. They were loud and filled with energy, and while he might have wanted to think that it was because they were mutes, he suspected it was actually just because they were children.
So he sat in the galley, perched on the edge of a bench, trying to concentrate on his lunch while they were making nuisances of themselves. Several were playing a game of tag. A number had formed an informal classroom with their mothers and were engaged in a reading lesson. Several were immersed in hologames, playing with plastic laser pistols shooting imaginary alien monsters. There were even a few sitting quietly reading or doing jigsaws. Music played – an awful tune with lots of made up nonsense words, beats in odd places and a complete lack of melody. In fact the only way he knew it was music was because some of the children were trying to sing along to it.
As for the central holo, there was no chance he was ever going to be able to access it again, or at least not until they reached Eden. He had been supplanted on his own ship.
None of this was right. Normally he would have the entire common area, from the galley through to the dining room to the lounge and the gym, all to himself. The ship would be silent, empty. He was comfortable with that. It was familiar. He had long since grown used to the quiet.
Strangely, he suspected the parents were also a little bemused by the whole thing too. Not by the children or even by being on a ship. But simply because all the people here were like them – mutes. They no longer had to hide. Carm was actually the odd man out – the only non-mute.
Still the food was good. The ship’s stores had been restocked. However getting any of it was a race, which was why he was grimly holding on to a cup of strong black coffee and half a dry cheese sandwich. The children had beaten him to everything else. He thought he'd be back on ration bars soon. It wasn't their fault, though – the Nightingale had never been designed for so many. Boosting the life support capability was one thing, but it just wasn’t a liner.
And he had only three more days of this to put up with. The jump point in the system was six days out from Eden, and they were half-way there.
What he found strange was that they hadn't provided him with a closer one. He was sure they must have some. After all it was the work of only a few hours to lock in some new coordinates even for a primitive ship like his, and with the algorithms they now had the ship could jump from it to any other. But he’d been told that that was unacceptable, and in any case the ship itself had informed him that there was a problem with the space around Eden, one which made it impossible to g
et an accurate fix.
Carm suspected that it had nothing to do with the space itself and everything to do with the Edenites. They had the technology to lock jump space around their world and the paranoia to want to. Making sure that any enemies which might show up were at least six days away meant giving them time to prepare their defences. Actually he didn't suspect it – he was certain of it. The Edenites had fled from the Commonwealth, and as such they’d learned to fear them. They were paranoid for a reason.
That paranoia extended to other areas. He wasn't allowed to know how many people called Eden home, various channels were closed to him and he wouldn't even be allowed on the bridge for the landing. They might trust him more than most, but they still weren'ttrusting him with anything important.
Still that wasn't his concern. What worried him was Kendra, or more accurately - White and Kendra. Seeing the rogue on the landing field a few days before had awoken some curiosity. Knowing that White had wanted to gain passage on the Nightingale had only added to it. And now that he had the time, there were some questions he wanted answering. Top of the list was why the sharding mute had wanted to get on the Nightingale in the first place. All he could come up with was that it was because Kendra had been busy with something else that he didn't know about, yet. He needed to know.
“Oh, you poor, poor man. Eating your lunch while all these terrible passengers have taken over your ship. How can one man suffer so much?”
Startled, Carm looked up to see Del standing over him, her voice dripping sarcasm and her face showing fake concern. He was getting tired of it. It appeared to be her way. If she wasn't angry with him, she was belittling him one way or another. On the other hand he didn't like it that maybe she had a point as microscopic as it was.
