by Frank Carey
###
Red sat in the comm officer's seat while the copilot held a blaster on her. "What the hell are you doing, Captain Furbesh? This is just a routine inspection. What the hell are you carrying?"
"Quiet! I need to think. I knew this gig was too good to be true... What the hell?"
The three watched in shock and awe as a sleek, upside-down Space Command patrol ship dropped into view fifty-feet off Furbesh's bow. In the copilot's seat was a terrified Alue. In the pilot's seat was a grinning human.
"Hey, Furbesh! How's tricks?" came over the comm.
"Thorvald?! You're going to get us all killed. Get the hell out of my way!" Furbesh replied.
"Sorry, buddy, but you need to let that gorgeous young lady go, then take your ship to Death Island. Try to avoid turbulence and make sure you land gently."
"Death Island? That's a weapon range out in the middle of the North Sea. Why the hell would I want to go there?"
"Because you’re carrying an unstable, 200-year-old, 150 kiloton nuclear weapon in your hold. Now do as I say or we all die."
"You're a smuggler! How the hell do you know what's in my hold?"
Niall reached into his pocket and pulled-out an OffSec badge. "Special Agent Niall Thorvald at your service. Captain, you've been sold a bill of goods by an unscrupulous arm's dealer who's trying to start a war. Now, if you land that damn ship on that damn island, I'll be willing to cut you some damn slack. Oh, and have your copilot hand Agent Red his pistol, then apologize profusely."
"And if we just leave?"
A red dot appeared on Furbesh's chest. The copilot looked down and saw a similar one on his. "Under the regulations governing the conduct of OffSec agents in the field, I will be forced to kill you both, then hand control of your ship to Captain McKee. This patrol ship, the Leprechaun, has a weapons system to die for, so I suggest we keep this friendly. NOW, MOVE!"
In quick succession, the gun changed hands, then the smuggler ship changed course, all the time with the Leprechaun keeping pace. By now, Max had her hands over her eyes while muttering prayers to any god who would listen.
"You got this, Captain?" Niall asked.
"Yeah. Thanks for the assist. I owe you one."
"Dinner tonight. I know a place that does beast right," he replied.
"You're asking me out on a date? Now?"
He shrugged. "Why not?" He lifted away, rolled upright, then took a wingman's position port and aft of the freighter.
"Yeah, why the plark not?" she asked herself while keeping an eye, and her weapon on the pilot and copilot.
###
Red sat back in her seat and took a sip of wine. "You're right, they know their beast."
Niall just sat and stared at her over steepled fingers. "Have you been avoiding me for the last few years?"
She nearly sprayed wine on him. "What?"
"You used your feminine wiles to get me to join OffSec. Since then, you don't call, you don't write, hell, we never nosh. Then the day I find where you're stationed, I find out you've transferred to Space Patrol. Let me guess, it's my breath, you find it hideous."
She gaped at him. "Moron! I had a fiancé."
"Had? As in past tense?"
She slammed back the wine, then poured another glass. "Yes, had. Past tense. He broke it off..."
"The cad! I'll have him whipped. Any other suitors I should know about?"
"Who raised you?"
"Smugglers. Lots of them. No pirates. No ninjas. Just smugglers. So, answer my question. Is there anyone else in your life?"
"Not at this second..."
"You and I are destined to marry. I saw this in a vision."
She stared at him with raised eyebrows and open mouth. "You're kidding, right?"
"No, and to prove it, I've transferred to Space Patrol."
"Oh, God, I'm not your trainer, am I?"
"No, that would be unseemly. My trainer is a Captain Saam."
"The woman you worked for when we first met?"
"Yes. She says she looks forward to whipping me into shape."
"You do know we can't date if we're different ranks, and you start out as an ensign or a lieutenant."
He waved his hand in dismissal. "Pish-posh I'll be Captain within two years, then we can discuss our impending marriage."
"Right, two years. If you make captain in two years, I'll buy dinner."
"You're on."
He did it in one.
CHAPTER TEN
Space Patrol Captain Melinda "Red" McKee stood over the empty coffin and stared, unable to come to grips with the thought that her crazy boyfriend had finally gone and got himself killed. The man who survived the destruction of a planet and the loss of his entire family, only to save hundreds of survivors was now gone, killed by something as senseless as an angry robot. Nothing made sense any more. A hand touched her shoulder, startling her. She looked up and saw a specter from the past. "Harm?"
Standing next to her was an elf wearing a dragon leather duster, his long braid of hair pouring out from underneath a well-worn fedora. "How do I look?" Ambassador Lucien Irithyl, who once plied the space ways as the smuggler known as Harmon Aymar, asked as he removed his hat and let it hang off his back by its stampede string.
"Like when we first met. Why the getup?"
"This is what I wore when I first met Niall. I thought it was appropriate." He looked at her. "If it’s any consolation, he died doing the job he loved."
She leaned her head on his shoulder. "It helps."
An attendant walked up. "It's time, milady."
She nodded. She leaned down and kissed the empty casket. "Goodbye, Fool!"
Lucien placed his hand on the gray surface then muttered a prayer older than Atlantis. When he finished, he replaced the hat and escorted Red out of the launch room. They joined the crowd in the observation room and watched as the casket was ejected into space where it would spiral into the nearby sun.
###
At the reception, after the last mourner paid their respects, Red took Lucien aside. "Harm... Can I call you Harm? I've never gotten use to the Lucien thing. It makes you sound like the devil."
"Of course, though my sister would not be pleased. I think she resented Harm and the freedom he enjoyed."
"Who do I need to talk to about becoming crew on a smuggler ship?"
He looked at her. "Whyyyy?" he slowly asked.
"I'm thinking of resigning my commission. Everywhere I look, I'm reminded of Niall and how I screwed up our relationship."
In the way of an answer, Harm pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to her.
"What's this?"
"An announcement for postings at the edge of the Expansion Zone. The Patrol is looking for officers who can fill a very specific role."
She read the paper. "Marshall? What is this? Planet Dodge City?"
"No, the name of the planet is Maeve. It's one of four habitable planets orbiting Ronskin-223. They need a marshal and deputies to patrol and ride circuit, so to speak. The Patrol has ships but lacks personnel. It takes a month to get there."
She took the paper and read it, not once, but twice. "This might work. Can I take Ariel with me?"
"If he wants to go. Trust me, as far as Space Patrol is concerned, the more the merrier."
"What's your part in this relocation shtick?"
"Somebody told them I had pull with the smuggler crowd. Go figure." He put his hand on her arm. "You're one of the best officers the patrol has. More importantly, you're my friend, and I hate seeing you hurting like this."
"Harm, have you ever had anyone close to you die like this?"
"No. I've died like this a few times, but that's different. When you die, someone else has to deal with the mess."
She looked at him in a new light. "So, all those stories of you returning from the dead are true?"
He smiled at her and nodded. "Especially the ones that weren't."
He held up the paper. "Can I keep this?"
"Sure. I've got plenty
more."
"I need to talk to Ariel. Have you seen him?"
"Your Luma copilot is in Lounge Three helping Maxine and Leesta."
"You know, I get the impression they're avoiding me."
"They think you think they killed Niall."
"What!"
"They got it in their heads that you think they could have saved him but didn't."
"Are they insane? Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because you just lost your boyfriend, and your copilot is dealing with the problem?"
"Have you met my copilot? God, ohhhhh!" She turned and hurried off.
"Something I should know about," his wife, Marta asked while handing him a plate of fruit.
"Naw. She's doing just fine."
###
Red walked into the lounge and found Ariel, comforting Max while Tanoh Ohnat, Leesta's fiancé, did the same for her. Red put her fists on her hips. "Tan, she'll be fine. I need to talk to these three, alone."
He nodded his werewolf head and kissed the top of Leesta's head before walking out. "Be gentle," he whispered on his way past her.
When the door closed, Red pointed at Ariel, then at a spot on the floor next to her. He released the Alue, got up, and walked over to stand next to the Captain. "Listen up! Neither of you had anything to do with Niall's death except make it meaningful, so stop all this damn guilting!"
"Is that even a damn word?" Max asked between blowing her nose and dabbing her eyes.
"I don't think so," Leesta replied.
"What isn't a damn word?" Red asked.
"Guilting," Ariel replied. "Guilting is a verb. It means the act of making someone feel guilty for something."
"Thank you, Ariel. Now, as for you two. I am not angry with you. I am not blaming you for anything. OK? Are we good?"
They both got up, walked over, and gave Red a hug. Before he could escape, they gave Ariel one as well. "Leesta, a very worried Tan is waiting outside. Why don't you go outside and reassure him? Meanwhile the three of us need to talk.
The Lysan engineer nodded, then stepped out, closing the door behind her.
"What's up, Captain?" Ariel asked.
"I was finishing up a conversation with Ambassador Irithyl when I got word of you having to console Max and Leesta. He and I were discussing my plan to leave Space Patrol to take up a career in smuggling."
"Captain, with all due respect, that has to be the stupidest thing I've ever heard come from your mouth," Ariel said, "The smuggler community knows who you are and what you do. Even with the elf's help and protection, you would never get a single load."
"She's right," Max said. "To them you went from OffSec to Space Patrol, both entities which make any smuggler's life hard."
Red sat down. "You both are right. Lucky for me, the Ambassador had a better idea." She handed Ariel the announcement. When the black Necrue finished reading it, he handed it to Max. "Sheriff of a frontier town. I like it. I assume you’re going and you want me to join you? If not, then I volunteer."
"Yes, I'm planning on going, and I want you along, fool. Max, you and I worked well together. Care to join us on an adventure?"
"Really? You want me to come along?"
"Yes, I want you along and so does Ariel. Right, Ariel?"
"Well, if you're asking my opinion..." He stopped when he saw the look on her face. "Then, yes, I would love the company."
"Then it's settled." Red got up, took her friends’ arms and led them to whatever the future held for them.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Niall woke up and saw stars above him, but not the familiar stars of home. It was either dusk or dawn, he couldn't tell. Wincing in pain from one or more broken ribs, he sat up and looked around. Off to his right were the remains of an odd-looking robot. It had been crushed by a large, heavy work table. Around him lay lab equipment and pieces of wreckage. He was sitting on what felt like ground.
"Over here!" someone yelled. "We've got a live one!"
Moments later, something that made the robot look normal swarmed over the equipment, then came to a stop in front of Niall. Behind him followed an Alturan. "He's human," the Alturan said. "Hey, buddy, do you happen to speak Standard?"
"Yes, fluently, I think. Where am I?"
"My name is Ren, and my friend here is Joshua," he said extending an arm that ended in something hand-like. "Welcome to Shit!"
<<<<<>>>>>
About Frank Carey
Frank Carey has been formally writing and publishing works of science fiction since late 2013. Over the years prior, he had dabbled in various forms of writing including haiku poetry, but that all changed when he and his wife, Jo, decided to try their hand at writing and self-publishing. All his work, to date, has been in the science fiction genre.
Most of his stories take place about two centuries in the future when Earth joins the League of Planetary Systems. Many of his protagonists are strong females. He is an inveterate pantser who believes the story will go where the story wants to go.
Frank’s background includes degrees in physics and extensive work as a scientific programmer and technologist.
Frank and his wife produce a podcast—Xtreme Self-Publishing—which details their self-publishing efforts.
Frank can be reached through his podcast at xtremeselfpublishing.podbean.com or via e-mail at [email protected] or [email protected]
