Planet 9 (The Dipole series Book 2)

by Chris Lowry

  “It doesn’t work.”

  “Yeah Mate, been meaning to give that a fix.”

  “We can stop, clean up and eat,” he smirked.

  Mona Lisa glanced up at him as she lunged into warrior pose.

  “Is that a joke?”

  More teasing.

  “I’m not a robot,” he grinned.

  It wasn’t much of one, but it was a start.

  CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

  "This is the last stop before we enter the outer territories,” Tinker announced.

  “You're just reading that off the sign,” Mona Lisa pointed out.

  Tinker stood in front of a large digital billboard outside of a supply shop on the edge of the belt. The simple cylinder construction was based on the design of the original International Space Station on Old Earth. Cheap, effective and easy to construct there were thousands of them floating around the Galaxy.

  Often enterprising entrepreneurs would lay claim on an abandoned or derelict Hub to set up shop and run supplies for the miners that flocked to the Belt to seek their fortune.

  “What a craphole,” Tinker observed as they entered.

  The short path from the airlock to the entry had been bare. But past the shop entryway every space seemed dedicated to kit and supply.

  “You know your ship looked worse than this when we first came onboard, right?” said Mona Lisa.

  “But that was organized for me,” he defended.

  Bat ran his finger along some of the equipment and left a trail in the accumulated dust.

  “Business is slow,” he said.

  “Room to negotiate,” Tinker answered with a grin.

  “It means this sector isn't crowded and the miners have moved on. Why hasn't he followed?” said Mona Lisa.

  She watched Tinker’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Bat kept his usual poker face.

  “What?” She shrugged. “Buster had a few mining interests and I paid attention.”

  She paid attention to a lot more than just his mining claims. Buster had a slice of a lot of action and Mona Lisa knew a little bit about it all.

  She kept that tidbit to herself as she let Bat lead the way down the aisle between towering stacks of parts that threatened to topple over with every breath.

  “If it's this grimy in here,” she whispered. “What do you think the showers are like?”

  “Yeah,” Tinker kept his voice low from behind her. “Maybe we just get the part to fix my shower.”

  “Part!” A voice crackled. “What kind of part?”

  Tinker squealed and flinched into a stack that started to go over. He used his weight to counter the fall, hands slithering up and down the mismatched totem of pieces.

  Bat stepped into a pool of light over a pristine counter. A wizened gnomish person of indeterminate gender let watery eyes wander over them.

  “Welcome to Mo's,” it said.

  The face was a study in wrinkles, like a topography map had been balled up and spread out as skin. Grey tufts of hair waved in the air from a scrubber.

  Thin hands worked a clean towel over the counter, the shelves behind organized and spotless.

  “Are you Mo?” Bat asked.

  He sat on one of two round stools in front of the counter. Mona Lisa grabbed the second one leaving Tinker to search around. He settled on leaning against the counter, just low enough to make the move look awkward.

  “Name of the guy before me,” the clerk answered making Mona Lisa wonder just how long the place had been out here.

  “You mentioned parts?” A grey tongue lick even greyer lips.

  “Food,” Bat answered for them. “Showers and a map.”

  The clerk studied them for a few moments.

  “You don't look like miners,” she said.

  “That's cause we're not,” Tinker answered.

  "I didn't think so,” the clerk crowed like she had won a victory.

  Mona Lisa decided it was a she. Something in her gut told her she was right.

  “You don't have the look,” the clerk reiterated. “You look too fresh.”

  “That's what the showers are for,” said Tinker.

  “Food,” Bat reminded her.

  “Beans. Rice. It's all there is.”

  “It's enough,” the guard said.

  “No steak?” Tinker sighed.

  “The hydrator has simple settings for a simple soul like me.”

  “It's fine,” Mona Lisa said before the pilot did something to hurt her feelings. The clerk turned and grabbed three bowls, lined them up under an old model 3D printer.

  She pressed start and it began constructing the ingredients from edible protein.

  Tinker watched with keen interest.

  “Do you have a part printer back there?”

  He did not relish a search among the stacks.

  “Just tell me what you are searching for and I'll find it.”

  She didn't look up from her task. “What kind of part?”

  “Shower,” said Bat.

  He stared at her eyes watching them in the reflection of the simple food replicator.

  “A long way to come for a shower part,” she observed.

  “We’re looking for Planet Nine,” Tinker said, distracted as he stared at the towering stacks behind them.

  Bat tried to swat him, but he was too far away and the effort to lean over and do it would attract too much attention.

  The clerk nodded.

  “You’re not the first to pass through here looking for that place.”

  She turned and placed three bowls on the counter, but didn’t offer silverware to eat with.

  Bat didn’t wait.

  He used two fingers to spoon the steaming rice and beans into his mouth. It was plain, and hot, but filling. Not the worst meal he’d ever eaten, even if it was replicated.

  Mona Lisa was more delicate, picking the beans out with her fingers and popping them in her mouth.

  Tinker just turned the bowl up and slurped it like soup.

  The Clerk watched, then scooted around the counter and disappeared into the rows of the supply store.

  “Where’s she going?” Tinker watched her go.

  “To get your part,” said Bat. “And to tell someone we’re here.”

  “Who?” Mona Lisa asked.

  The guard shrugged.

  “Just a feeling.”

  “You’re right,” the Clerk returned and placed a small part in front of Tinker. “I have informed them of your arrival.”

  “Them?” Bat asked.

  He set the empty bowl aside and kept both hands on the counter. The better to reach the Clerk and snap her neck if needed.

  “The ones you are chasing,” she informed them. “They were here three days ago, and said to expect you.”

  Mona Lisa handed the Clerk a credit chip and the woman ran it under the counter. Her wrinkled eyes lit up when she saw the amount, but she passed the card back without a word.

  “What did they say to expect?” Bat asked.

  “Only that you would come, and I should tell you where to go.”

  She reached back under the counter.

  Bat tensed, expecting a blaster and he did not want to get shot again. It hurt.

  But the old woman just placed a simple sheet of paper on the stainless steel in front of them.

  It had numbers on it, coordinates.

  “There,” said the Clerk. “That will lead you to them, and when you’re done, just enter the second set to get out.”

  “Out of where?” Tinker turned the shower part over in his hands and studied it.

  “The Outer Rim.”

  “I’ve never heard of that on any maps.”

  “It’s what those of us who live out here call it.”

  “Us?” Bat asked.

  “There were more before the mines ran dry,” she assured him.

  “And now?”

  “Now it’s just me, and soon I’ll be moving on,” she indicated her lined visage. “On to the next
life, or the next place to set up shop.”

  Bat gathered the bowls and pushed them across the counter.

  He pocketed the piece of paper on the counter.

  “We’ll skip the showers,” he told her. “Something tells me we need to hurry.”

  The Clerk cackled.

  “Take it from someone older than you, there really is nothing to hurry for.”

  Bat doubted she was older than him. There were only twelve others alive who could match his age.

  But he didn’t correct the crone.

  He took Mona Lisa by the elbow and directed her back down the stacked aisles. Tinker fell in step behind them.

  “Was it just me, or was that sort of surreal?” he whispered.

  “It was surreal,” Mona Lisa called back to him.

  “You always hear about these old people folks run into when they’re on an adventure who impart wisdom that keeps everyone alive, but they don’t figure it out until it’s too late, but I never expected to run into one.”

  “You think her threat was wisdom?”

  “She threatened you?”

  “We barely made it out alive,” said Bat.

  “Mate,” said Tinker. “I have got to get better at reading people.”

  The pilot swore under his breath as they made their way back to the NS-17 and took off.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  "I remember reading stories when I was growing up about a space explorer named Flash. He had an enemy named Ming."

  "What are you saying?"

  "I'm just saying, what if this chick is like that guy? Merciless?"

  "Who are you calling a chick?"

  "Not you love."

  "I thought we evolved past that?"

  "You may have," Tinker gave her an exaggerated once over, pausing at the ample cleavage she had on display under her tight jumpsuit. "But some of us are still working with what we got. Mine is words. Words like chicks, dude and man."

  "Don't call us chicks. Call us women. Call us ladies."

  "Call girls?"

  She blew wind through her lips, exasperated.

  "Impossible," she muttered.

  "You should learn," Bat said from the cockpit door.

  They both turned in their seats to regard him. His large frame filled the tiny opening, blocking their view of the cargo hold beyond. The guard stared at the view screen on the front of the console, offering a view of stars as they streaked past, a weird doppler effect making them long streams of rainbow colored lights.

  "He's doing it to get a reaction from you."

  Tinker winked.

  "Like the kind of reaction you're giving me when I look at you."

  "Point made," Bat said.

  "What if I don't like it?"

  "You won't like it," said Tinker. "You'll love it. I promise."

  "The more you play into it, the more he feeds off of it."

  "So I should just keep quiet?" she pouted.

  "I've got other things you can do with your mouth."

  "It's just noise," said Bat. "Give it as good as you get."

  "Ha!" screamed Tinker. "That's what I want love. Give it to me as good as I can give it to you."

  "And you wonder why I ran away."

  Bat started at that, stared at her for a moment, then turned to go back into the cockpit. They heard him settle into the jump seat next to the airlock.

  "I'm sorry," she called after him.

  But he didn't respond.

  "Think he has abandonment issues?" Tinker asked in the most serious voice she had heard him use yet.

  "Are you a psychologist?"

  Tinker shrugged.

  "I'm a pilot," he said. "Once you set course, there's a lot of downtime for reading."

  "Keep it in your head."

  She thought maybe Bat was right. Tinker was playing mind games with her and she was feeding right into it. But she wasn't about to dial down her natural sexuality just because some guy made crude comments. If that were the case, she would have put on a burlap dress and her hair in a bun a decade ago.

  Though she secretly nursed the thought that she could make a burlap bag sexy, if she ripped the seams on the side up just high enough.

  "Why are you smiling?" Tinker asked.

  "Stay out of my head," she answered and went to check on Bat.

  She could feel Tinker watching her as she maneuvered out of the cabin.

  "And eyes off my ass."

  CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

  The approach to Planet Nine went easier than expected. The coordinates provided by the clerk at Mo's led exactly to where she said it would be.

  But it was not what they expected.

  “Are you getting this?” Tinker said over his shoulder as his eyes were glued to the view screen.

  “I have scanners,” Junebug sounded snappish.

  “I wasn't talking to you,” Tinker corrected. “But tell them what you see.”

  “It is a gassy Giant,” the AI explained.

  “A gassy Giant!” Tinker giggled in an almost mad glee.

  “We heard her,” said Mona Lisa.

  “Tell them what kind of gas!” He snorted. “It's ethanol.”

  He didn't wait for her to say it.

  “Ethanol!”

  “I don't get it.”

  He turned toward where she sat in the co-pilot seat.

  “I make distilled ethanol in the back.”

  “It's a planet of booze,” said Bat.

  “All booze!” Tanker clapped his hands.

  “You have a problem,” Mona Lisa told him.

  “Don't I know it. We need to get some samples.”

  “That will have to wait,” Bat pointed to the screen.

  They saw a large vessel hove over the Horizon and set an intercept orbit.

  “Company,” said Bat.

  The NS-17 lurched. And the engines changed their pitch.

  “What's that?” Mona Lisa caught herself on Bat's arm.

  “Tractor beam,” he and Tinker said at the same time.

  “We are caught in a tractor beam,” Junebug announced.

  “You're a little late to the dance,” Tinker snickered. “Advanced intelligence. Am I right?”

  The lights went dark in the ship.

  “Do you want to greet them in the dark?”

  “Do your best computer,” Tinker shouted in the pitch-black. “I ain't afraid of the dark.”

  The air scrubbers whistled off and went silent.

  “Did she just kill our life support?”

  “Relax,” said Tinker. “We've got hours of air.”

  A metallic clank reverberated through the ship. A red light next to the airlock began to glow.

  “She wouldn't?” Mona Lisa's eyes glistened in the pale luminescence that filtered through the cabin.

  “She wouldn't dare,” Tinker boasted.

  The electric lock on the door spun open with a clang.

  “Would she?”

  The airlock hissed open.

  Mona Lisa screamed. Bat grabbed her by the arm and gripped the co-pilot's seat so hard he permanently creased the leather with indentations of his fingerprints. Tinker shrieked.

  Cold white light spilled through the airlock from the attached other ship.

  “See!” Tinker said after he stopped almost hyperventilating

  “I knew you wouldn't kill us,” he said to the console.

  “Prepare to be boarded,” was the AI's only reply.

  CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

  “The Xia,” Tinker blanched as men filled the open airlock. They were dressed in light armor, designed to look ceremonial and functional. It was copied from a print of a Samurai warrior from old Earth, though customized to function in variable gravity environments, and modified with elements lifted from Troop armor.

  “Has anyone told the Chinese princess that Samurai were Japanese?” Bat snorted.

  “Stop man, they’ll hear you.”

  The two warriors in front shifted aside, creating a narrow p
assage between the bodies.

  An invitation for the trio to join them. Unspoken, but the crew of the NS-17 heard it loud and clear.

  “The Xia,” Mona Lisa explained as they stepped out of the cargo hold and into the airlock to the other ship. “The personal bodyguard and enforcers for the Ming family.”

  “They are bad asses,” Tinker whispered.

  Bat studied the men.

  The exoskeleton on their lower extremities was stolen from the Troop design, though it had to be in looks only, he thought. The blueprints for that technology was so well guarded, even he would have trouble accessing it.

  Probably enhanced strength, though. That was easy enough to build, with the right amount of credit.

  The top of the armor looked like a heavyweight jacket, built in layers. Blast proof, shock resistant, it looked like a polycarbonate blend. Symbols and artwork had been etched into the surface so that each piece looked like an elaborate work of art that also functioned as armor.

  Bat nodded.

  He liked that idea.

  Not that war was art, or that battle should be glorified. He stepped between the warriors and noted their reaction. Like plants tilting away from a gale in the wind.

  They could tell he was a predator and though they were highly trained warriors, there was fear.

  Something of his reputation preceded him.

  Which was funny, because he had been a nobody guard for almost two decades.

  That meant they had knowledge.

  Not of his past, of that he was sure.

  Had they known a little more about him, they wouldn’t have opened the airlock.

  No, what these Xia knew was recent.

  Something they learned in the past month, since he had only fought recently in the past thirty days.

  The guard shifted, rolling his shoulders to work out a few kinks, and bit back a chuckle as the Xia around him flinched.

  He followed Mona Lisa and Tinker into a corridor on the other ship.

  The Xia fell in around them and escorted them further into the belly of the beast.

  “Where are they taking us?” Tinker asked out loud.

  “I imagine to their leader,” Mona Lisa said. “Why don’t you ask them.”

  “Hey, where are you taking us?”

  The Xia wore masks that covered their faces, only the eyes visible through a transparent shield.