by Martin Perry
Obliging, Earnest took his steps slowly towards the assembled police squad. Calmed by the steady, non-aggressive dialogue between the prisoner and their commanding officer, they wrapped the cuffs with relative gentleness. Dignity intact, Champion was led away through the field.
“Good luck,” Kerra shouted after him, Beta crew following but Margaret left to console Marc 14. “We’ll keep contact as best we can.”
“Just keep my ship going, and make me some money. Do things like you always have!”
They watched him move towards the smooth UNAPT ships, the excessive volume of police enforcement marching in steady rhythm.
Huddling together, Beta Crew saw the man they followed disappear into one of the ships, led by Baltazar, who scanned the horizon before ducking in himself. Yazram struggled not to launch into immediate retaliation, he had needed to do so since UNAPT had arrived. Seeing this happen to the man who had led the drive for his freedom from Seeon, from the life of crime and desperate survival, was hard to take, but his loss was felt by all. Maur wrapped his arm around Kerra.
“Come on, there’s no point in just standing here.” Kerra said after they had all stood well after the dark black blobs banked over the horizon.
“I can’t believe it. The Free Man Nation ran like total pussies, after gunning for us for months, all just so those guys come in and take away the Captain? It’s bullshit,” Thom said, still standing absolutely static, folding his arms as he spoke.
“It doesn’t matter. This is only temporary.” Charles said, the first to turn away from the empty sky.
“Are you sure? The UNAPT have a pretty strong record when it comes to private military convictions. I can see him having the ship taken away from him, we’ll be out of jobs.” Thom continued to question.
“He has no ship to take.”
“What do you mean?” Yazram asked, piping up with an unfamiliar inflection.
“Annie is now technically my property.” Charles swung a panel, which he had been holding since they left the command deck, up to his line of sight, and tapped a few times before handing it over to Thom so he could corroborate his statement. “The ownership of the Jump Cannon has been transferred to me. It was done even before I was put in charge. Champion knew what the consequences of defending ourselves against the Nation would be.”
“So, it’s more than just temporary?” Maur asked, shocked by what he was hearing. Not because he did not trust Charles, but because he couldn’t fathom the Jump Cannon not being Champion’s ship.
“I hope it is as temporary as possible. I will hand the Jump Cannon back over as soon as the legal system is done with Champion, or as soon as he is free of it. Whichever comes first.”
Margaret and Marc 14 left the bowels of the ship, a motherly arm still around the lunark’s shoulders. Maur separated his own from Kerra, pushing his feet off the ground and jogging towards the only blood relative he had.
“I’m sorry we brought this all here mom,” he said, holding her tight. “You didn’t deserve any of this coming to your doorstep.”
“Don’t be silly, it was nice to see you. And all of your friends. I’m sorry it didn’t turn out better,” Margaret replied.
“What? Are you serious? You did more than you ever should have.”
“Well, it was an excuse to play with the new toys. Hopefully your boss will be OK. I think Marc 14 might need a bit of emotional support. It’s hard losing a partner.”
“A partner?” Maur questioned. “What do you mean?”
“His boyfriend,” she said as if it should be obvious to Maur. “You didn’t ever pick it up?”
“No... there was so much going on.”
“You never were very good at these things, although I see you and Kerra are quite the couple regardless,” Margaret said knowingly.
“Yeah,” he replied laughing. “You noticed that too huh?”
“Of course. One more thing Maur...”
“What? Anything.”
“Can you let go? You’re starting to crush me.”
Apologetic, he pushed himself away and brushed her arms to try and sooth any pain he caused. He wasn’t used to the Legacy’s power yet. He imagined it would take a long time.
“You have your father’s strength now...”
“Sorry?” Maur asked, missing exactly what his mother had said.
“Nothing dear, let’s get you all inside. Get everybody fed properly before you have to leave.”
He followed her instructions obediently as a good son should, blindly ignoring the comment. Suddenly aware of what lay ahead – returning the dead to their rightful place, repairing Annie yet again, recruiting the new crew – he resolved to seize normality while it was offered. He was very glad that Champion had laid the burden of leadership on Charles and not him, between the Free Man Nation and the strange babbling of the Legacy his head was well occupied. Maur knew that neither was likely to release their combined vice-grip of worry, excitement and uncertainty without more days like this. At least The Gentle Reminder was dead.
“No matter how hard life is, it is still worth living for as long as you face its challenges with friends.”
A quote from Jacob Gilrey-Michaels, best-selling author.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Borealia, locally considered the capital of Norland despite its being part of Unified North America, was a dazzling city, but one without a strong identity of its own. Gleaming, mirrored glass towers composed a skyline that, almost without exception, bled into the clouds above. With spires, landing pads, and exclusive balcony bars jutting out of these perfect monuments, all linked together with tubular walkways, it resembled an ultra-modern tree-top city. There was very little natural about it though, man-made materials lining every part of its three-hundred square mile footprint.
It was a monument to man’s ongoing progress. If you wanted to get your hands on some bleeding-edge equipment at short notice then you could guarantee that Borealia’s rich merchants would have it in stock. Much of the population was made up of former mercenary, trade or authority employees who had settled down in a port they visited frequently during their careers. Visiting one of the Borealia’s many social destinations would invariably lead to you meeting a former colleague, a former business partner or a former jailer, at least for the crew of the Jump Cannon.
That meant, despite the intimidating technology and lofty elitism of the skyscraping towers, you would always receive a warm welcome when you arrived. The people of Borealia too, even those who had never been employed in the more extraterrestrial occupations, understood that after months away from Earth the only thing of any real importance is to feel at home, enjoy earthly comforts and be reminded that the difficulties of journeying known space won’t always press down upon you. Crime was almost non-existent, good behaviour an unwritten rule, and the weather warm but rarely baking hot. In all, Borealia was the perfect port town.
Easily available technology and safety was in stark contrast to everything inflicted upon the Jump Cannon crew in recent times. This was all offered by one city; an impressive reminder of man’s vital importance within known space trading as well as his willingness to pursue harmonious multiculturalism. It was a welcome counterpoint to the dirt and grit that Annie’s crew had been fighting their way through for so long.
Docked at a garage operated by an old colleague of Charles’, the Jump Cannon was being repaired to her former glory on a considerable line of credit that would have been offered to them in no other place. All the damage that she had incurred between Pura and Earth, even some small faults that had been detected during those first flights as a rebuilt ship, were being rectified as she and her crew prepared to face the future and put to rest the past. The dead, the victims of the Free Man Nation, had been laid to rest now too; returned to their homes and families with a heartfelt apology and a promise of financial support as soon as it could be offered.
Nestled between two glistening buildings, the garage sat suspended about half way up t
he pair. Annie was busy with activity, workmen moving in and out of the hangar and others working on the hull.
Beta Crew sat in a bar not far above the garage, watching the ongoings while sipping from tall stainless steel tankards. Each was dressed casually, Yazram’s usually black robes replaced with white to relieve some of the warmth of an unusually hot day in Borealia.
“We’re going to be working all the way to the grave to pay for all of this,” he said, taking a sip of the heavily alcoholic liquid and swilling it around in his mouth for a moment. “Are you sure we needed all the luxury? The floors could easily have been repaired with standard sheet metal.”
“I am just Annie’s caretaker Yazram,” Charles replied, taking a bigger mouthful. “She will only ever belong to Champion. It was my duty to return her to her former glory. After all, the actions of the Free Man Nation were not his, nor the Jump Cannon’s fault.”
“True, true. I could certainly have gotten you this all cheaper had we made a visit to Seeon.”
“Is that something you really want to do any time soon?” Thom asked.
“You have a point."
“The Moderate Council wouldn’t be too welcoming to us just now, I don’t think," Maur said. “I caught the tail end of some news coverage this morning. They are still talking about the battle at my mom’s place, trying to figure out who we actually stood against. UNAPT have refused to issue a statement. Mom’s getting hounded by journalists.”
“It must be a slow news week,” said Charles.
“Yeah, it must be. We’re doing the right thing not telling people about the Nation aren’t we?” Maur asked.
“There would be no point in saying anything,” Kerra said. “Even the press vultures aren’t going to believe us without a shred of evidence. Your mother said that UNAPT cleared the wreckage in the night.”
“Very convenient,” said Thom.
“For all the problems they’ve caused us, the Nation have done a pretty incredible job of keeping themselves under cover. It’ll only damage out reputation to sound like we’re babbling about some invisible clandestines. We need to make some money, can’t do that if all the agents think the Jump Cannon is staffed with crackpots.”
“Have you asked your mom to join us? At least until the heat dies down?” Thom asked, his head swaying under the influence of the alcohol. He had been behaving remarkably mature since the final confrontation with The Gentle Reminder. Any rookie naivety had been destroyed when the chef fully and properly transitioned to being a soldier.
“I suggested it, yeah, she wouldn’t go for it though. Said the press people would all disappear soon enough. Joked that she hadn’t quite recovered from my last crushing hug, said she’d see me again when her ribs felt normal again,” rambled Maur, staring into his tankard and missing home already.
“Speaking of which, how’s the Legacy treating you? Felt compelled to put your fist through a mortar round in the last couple of days?” Thom joked. He patted Charles on the back as he did, looking for approval.
“It’s a good question,” said their temporary captain, the tone of his response less jovial but still not interrogatory.
“Nope. I can still hear it all the time but I think I’m learning to drown out the less-than-essential information. I get swamped with details about you guys all the time though.”
“Go on, tell me something interesting, surprise me!” said Thom.
“You sure you want me to bust out a fact?” Maur replied, warning in his voice. “You really want me to tell these good people something shocking?”
“Go for it,” Thom said, bravado carrying him through.
“Four to five inches.”
“Four to five inches what?” he replied, face turning from cocky smile to concerned grimace.
“You know what I’m talking about,” Maur replied with a wry smile, again sipping from his drink.
The assembled group of friends let out hearty laughs at Thom’s expense. He slid down the back of his chair, bringing the tankard right up to his face to hide the embarrassed grin beaming from cheek to cheek. Even if it was at his expense, it was good to hear his friends laugh again.
“Come on,” he said, trying to get them to give up on the giggling, “we’ve been keeping the newbies waiting for long enough. Can’t sit around here all day while Maur gets all giddy about my manhood.”
“Ha, you’re right, you’re right,” Charles said, slamming his tankard down onto the table and trying to shake off the hilarity. “Let’s move. I have a speech to make.”
“Aye aye Captain!” Kerra jested, saluting with a haughty pout.
Leaving the muggy air of the balcony bar, the cold conditioned air of the hotel building hit them, drying skin and killing conversation.
Side-by-side, Kerra and Maur hand-in-hand, they walked through the gold plated walls and ornate décor hidden by the gleaming mirrored outer walls of the building. Staff and their robotic assistants passed them with heads ducked down, the commanding crew of the Jump Cannon absolutely welcome but understood as being more than capable when it came to confrontation. Legends of the Los Piratas attack, their crash landing and scraps regarding their most recent battle had followed them here, although the vast majority of people were interested parties rather than intimidated ones. By not disclosing information about the Free Man Nation, they had created a certain mystery about them, and the promises of adventure had only assisted in their hunt for able shipmates. They had moved up in the world in some ways, down in others, but despite the massive cost the overall benefit was clear. Some well-known faces were gathered to meet them.
Having descended two floors and crossed the nearest walkway into the building next door, part of the same complex, Beta Crew exited back into the open onto a recreation space that was still within view of the Jump Cannon. It was a fairly empty space in terms of furnishings, a few chairs and tables pushed to the sides of the platform.
However, it was far from vacant, with a multi-species throng of people waiting to meet Charles and his representatives from the Jump Cannon. Korakians, seetans, lunarks, purans, humans and more were assembled to meet their new boss, some of them already well-known.
Mikalas Yves, Ricard 56, Jewlia Ghan Xi, Izrak Sil, the list went on – Maur recognised these men and women as well as others. Those that he knew had all, with the exception of a puran girl he thought he recognised, somehow been involved in the history of Annie that pre-dated the Los Piratas attack. They joined them now after the hardest few months that the ship had ever faced. Josia 24’s presence still loomed over them, none of them forgetting the warning that Champion had given them about his evidenced involvement in the Free Man Nation attack.
There were still plenty of unfamiliar faces too, crewmen that had been contracted prior to them leaving Pura or new hires that they had interviewed in the couple of days that they had spent in Borealia.
A few of them Maur was a little unsure of. They had employed Yazram’s mind-reading ability to try and scan for Nation influence. No individual showed explicit signs of allegiance, but a few promising candidates had been declined on the basis that their overall thought patterns demonstrated traits that might allow them to be subverted by the Nation at a later date. This was not an exact science however, and these traits were assumed rather than based on any concrete research; Maur had attempted to employ the Legacy for further detection with no luck. This almighty power did not, it would seem, involve itself with the dealings of the mind.
Most were welcome, and to a man they had all demonstrated their ability to drink and have fun at a party held the night before. New integrated with old, and despite the wide-spread unfamiliarity of the one-hundred-and-ten men and women that he now called comrades, it still felt good to have a full ship’s complement again. Maur had missed the hustle and bustle aboard Annie; she had felt hollow since the losses suffered at the hands of Los Piratas. That wasn’t a problem any more, and they were prepared to face such threats once again.
There was an
upturned box set just in front of the assembled mass. Charles stepped up onto it, the thick metal flexing under his weight. He was standing confident and collected as ever, but his fidgety body language said more. After words of comfort offered by Beta Crew and the wider staff, Charles felt ready to take on the title of Captain, and was even beginning to revel in the responsibility and far-reaching control of the occasionally chaotic workforce aboard Annie. He lifted his arms into the air, hands sticky from the heat of the day; the few beads of sweat on his face were caused by that rather than any nervousness.
“Thank you for coming, I’m sure a few of you are feeling worse for wear,” he said first, a quiet cackle of laughter escaping the crowd. “Rest assured that your time on the Jump Cannon will lead to many headaches like the ones you are suffering from now.”
“The Jump Cannon, or Annie as you will come to affectionately call her, is important to me. I boarded it having not long completed my military service. While few who were there for that first date would probably agree, I was still immature. I understood battle, I understood victory and loss, but I did not understand what it meant to truly fight for a cause. Up until then, I had bore arms because I had a talent and it made me money. This soon changed.”
The crowd listened attentively to Charles' out-pour, more emotion and honesty in each of his vociferously spoken words than even the veteran crew had ever heard from the man, perhaps save Maur. He dropped his arms now, and continued with his speech.
“I have come to consider the ship you see here,” he said, waving an arm out slowly towards the Jump Cannon sitting just below, “my home, the place where my family lives, and the site of my own self-discovery. In my few years of service to her I have learned more about myself and my own beliefs than I have done in the rest of existence, and I am not the only one”
“We enjoy drinking, we enjoy making jokes of each other, some of us even enjoy the fighting that comes with being a mercenary ship. However, we each hold deep moral values that will never be corrupted. In recent times we have faced threats that you will soon have to learn more of – threats which have promoted bigotry, hatred, and violent criminal activity. If any of you are so inclined, or if any of you enjoy victimising others and using scapegoats to explain away the problems with your life, and likewise if any of you are inclined not to value your colleagues, then leave now. You are not welcome on my ship.”
