by Alan Black
Keeping a dog wasn’t against any regulation so when Vesper bit Fugget as he attempted to keep her from getting on the shuttle with York, they decided she might as well go with him. He didn’t have any dog food, but the replicator in the galley near work easily converted any number of foodstuffs to something she would eat.
York didn’t mind dropping her off at hydroponics before going to work. Water was abundant in pools scattered all around the hydroponics garden, deep grass was everywhere and sunny spots for naps were easy to find. She might get lonely spending eight hours a day by herself, so he called up often to talk with her. He also managed to reconfigure an automatic composting machine to throw balls and sticks for her to chase. York wondered if it would be a good idea to get her another dog to play with the next time he went down to Liberty or someone came up. Male or female didn’t matter as Fugget swore Vesper was neutered.
Having a dog wasn’t like having another person around. He was still alone even with Vesper draped over his lap or trying to lick his face. She was a good dog and only got antsy if he was gone for too long at one time. She was young, healthy, and more than willing to join him on his station runs, although she wasn’t fond of working out in the heavy gravity gym. She was frustrated with Gretchen and Aphrodite as the girls would talk to her, but they weren’t able to pet her.
York ushered her into hydroponics, swearing as he did every day that he was going to take time to do some yard work and clean up some. He was anxious to get back to work today. He’d been running alternating programs checking the station’s historical databases for any possible slaver attacks. It seemed impossible to him that a ship or shuttle could come and go from the planet without leaving a trace the Gambion, Em.T-Sp8s, or planetary listening stations didn’t pick up. It should be impossible to do without help from someone.
He came to attention as he entered the communications bay. Saluting Commander Blaque, he said, “Ensign Junior Grade York Sixteen, present for duty.” His stance and salute were precise, done as prescribed by military standards as taught at the Yards. He held the salute at attention until Blaque waved a few loose fingers while staggering out of the hatch.
He shut off the outgoing internal security cameras, initiated a program, and added a loop into the oversight relays. Feeding his biometrics into the display, York snapped on his program’s results. “Buggered Bach and shafted Schubert! The time matches too close to be a coincidence.” There were erasures on two sections of the station’s database. Removing data was against regulations. No one ever checked the database as long as nothing untoward happened and without his specialized search programs untoward events would never be seen.
One time frame matched exactly with the times Fugget had sent him for the attack on the Ferguson farmsteads and orphanage. The second erasure clearly bracketed the dog pack’s rental floater reaching the Yavapai Steppes and York’s arrival to dispatch Samdon. These were communications erasures, not scanning data. The station was still only on passive line-of-sight scans. Fergusson and the Yavapai Steppes had been on the far side of the planet at the times of attack. Anyone could have come and gone from the planet as long as they hid in the planet’s shadow cone.
They could even reach Liberty’s big moon and stay out of Empty Space’s passive scans, as the moon was in the shadow of the planet. However, the Gambion would have spotted them during either attack if they had left orbit, since the Navy spaceship followed its own orbital path inconsistent with tracks the space station followed. The tracking systems only worked if they left atmosphere. No one would see them if they remained on the planet.
York realized the slavers must still be on Liberty. He wondered if the arrival of the Navy had trapped them on the planet, pinning them to the planet’s jungle regions. The two recent attacks were too close together to be the same team. The slavers must have at least two shuttles operating within the atmosphere. The planet was more unsettled than not, there were places someone could hide a million people and not be found unless someone was scanning specifically for groups of people where they shouldn’t be.
Empty Space should be able to spot clusters of people, yet Liberty’s obsessive adherence to a nomadic society made it hard to know if anyone was where they shouldn’t be. Any group of people could be a few floaters searching for a place to park for a couple of weeks, or just as easily, be a group of kidnapped children and future sex slaves.
It wouldn’t matter. Em.T-Sp8s couldn’t spot anything less than a spacecraft launch or a nuclear missile launch on passive scans. Any slavers trapped on the planet would soon be able to scoot away into space unless he brought the scan systems up to active status. The orbital trajectories of the Gambion and the station would conspire to keep shuttles trapped for another couple of weeks, but soon they would synch up enough to hide any launches on the dark side.
York was supposed to get prior command authorization before switching from passive to active scans. He made the change anyway. He knew the Hopper Rule of Engagement as well as any maxim he learned at the Yards. Lost in history and recently found again was a quote by Admiral Grace Hopper, “It’s easier to ask forgiveness than it is to get permission.” He didn’t know what else Hopper was known for, but the woman was often quoted in combat leadership courses.
York knew he would have to ask for forgiveness and claim ignorance later. He was, after all, just a lowly junior grade ensign who knew so little he really shouldn’t be left alone. He didn’t know whether he would have to beg forgiveness from Commander Senior Grade Paul or Commander Junior Grade Blaque. One or both of them were complicit in wiping data from the system. There were only three people on the station, if you didn’t count Vesper. He knew he hadn’t wiped any database prior to his own search. He didn’t know which man was working with the slavers. Once he found out, he’d be glad to help the man on his way to the next life. He knew the hydroponics section had wonderful composting and mulching systems when it came down to it, not to mention that empty space was indeed empty and full of space, both inside the station and outside.
He wasn’t entirely sure Paul or Blaque would even notice the systems were on active scans. Neither man seemed to have any compelling interest in their communications duties. Blaque’s only interest was in self-indulgence, either drink or food. Paul’s interests remained within his quarters, never leaving except during duty hours or for meals. Neither man showed any desire to socialize. Neither man commented on York shortening his leave on Liberty. Neither man said anything about Vesper’s addition to the station compliment. All of their non-attention was fine with York. He still preferred to be alone and didn’t want to socialize with either man. What he did want was to find out which one was helping the slavers!
TWENTY-THREE
York sat in the civilian docking bay, Vesper lying quietly at his feet. He was happily reading a historical novel with his feet resting on an upturned box. He’d managed to find a paper copy of the classic book, The Minstrel’s Tale by the original author Anna Questerly. He’d found it in the trash in the rear of an entertainment store on the civvie side of the station. His copy was a new reprint of the old book, but the paper volume wasn’t an e-version or any of the hundred or so ‘rewrites’ of her story by later authors. The book was odd reading, as there were only words and flat 2D illustrations minus the imbedded dictionaries, photos, u-tubes, and author commentaries normal books boasted of.
Vesper was quite happy to let him read.
An alarm signaling the arrival of a shuttle interrupted both of them. York sighed quietly in frustration at having to stop reading, made a mental note of the page number, and closed the book without a bookmark. He’d either remember where he left off reading or he’d start all over again, it didn’t really matter to him. There was an audible hiss as the air in the airlock tube between the shuttle and the station mated.
A voice shouted, “Secure the station bay!” He reached down, put a restraining hand on Vesper and watched six armed ratings pour through the small hatch. Each had small
automatic weapons and waved them at everything except him and his dog. Two of them dropped into prone positions by the shuttle’s hatch while two others pounded across the bay’s deck swinging into the corridor beyond, scanning for hostiles. The remaining two ratings raced up to York and Vesper, snapping to attention, yet obviously alert for any ambush.
PO3 Chrissie Altamont saluted, “Ensign Sixteen, the 44th Naval Reserve from Saorsa City on Liberty has arrived. With Captain Altamont’s respects, he requests permission to come aboard and off load.”
The young rating accompanying her swung the muzzle of his gun in sweeping arcs around the bay, his finger twitching nervously on the trigger guard. If the finger slipped, it would cut York in half. It would have been annoying to die right here on his own station, but he didn’t know the boy and boy didn’t know him. He would have done the same thing had he been in the young rating’s place. The boy looked new to his uniform. He couldn’t have been more than fifteen.
York stood carefully. Keeping his hands in clear view, he returned her salute. “Permission granted and welcome back.” He nodded his head at the young man next to her.
She smiled, “Relax, Spaceman Apprentice.” She looked at York and said “FNG” by way of apology. Ignoring her comm gear, she shouted, “Station bay is secure except one moderately intelligent life form!” She winked at York and said, “Oh, and Vesper’s owner Ensign Sixteen is here, too.” She and the E1 rating raced off to join the guard duo near the hatch to the station corridor.
York snapped to attention as Captain Altamont and his daughter swept into the bay, followed closely by Master Chief Fugget and Senior Chief Petty Officer Jaden. Altamont returned his salute and glanced around at the piles of goods stacked in the bay.
Kenna stepped up to York. Rather than return his salute, she slapped his hand away and gently put her arms around his chest. She squeezed lightly and turned him loose. Somehow, he knew she realized he didn’t like to be touched but she was unable to stop herself from hugging him. She said in a voice that carried across the bay. “York Sixteen, I owe you. You saved my life and I haven’t even had the chance to thank you.” When he started to shake his head to let her know she didn’t owe him anything, she interrupted before he could speak. “Don’t you dare say coming after me and saving my life was nothing. It’s my life and that isn’t nothing to me. Be it known to all here present I am in debt to York Sixteen. Any offense to him will be an offense to me. Any slight to him will be answered by me. Any debt he owes is mine to pay from this day forward.”
“Um … thanks, I think.”
Captain Altamont nodded, “I want to apologize, Ensign. I wasn’t very pleasant at out last encounter and I’m sorry.”
York grinned and said, “Apology accepted. Hells bells, sir. I’d have skinned me alive if I’d been in your shoes for nothing more than seeing my daughter naked.” Everyone laughed, except York, he hadn’t meant it as a joke. He had wanted to skin Samdon, but the man caved quicker than a badly made soufflé. He gestured around him, “Welcome to Empty Space.”
Altamont said, “Ernie said you directed him to dock us on the civvie side of the station. I admit this is a nice big bay, but it’s a bit cluttered. Why here?”
York said, “Sir, the old freighter you’ve been working on is right through the next access hatch and all these crates and boxes are parts I’ve scrounged from around the station. You should be able to get her up and running in no time. I’ll bet you won’t even need Ernie to shuttle you back down if you have a qualified pilot. And the bays on either side are clear and cleaned for your unit to bivouac in, though they still can use the Spacer’s Rest, if you would rather.”
Fugget shorted, “Ernie isn’t going to be happy to lose the transportation fees.”
York said, “Actually, I’d like to hold on to Ernie if you don’t mind. Talking to him is the second reason I wanted you to dock here.”
Altamont said, “You have need of a shuttle and pilot?”
York shook his head, “No, sir. I have a burning need to ask him about some encoded communications between his shuttle and a null space. Those are questions I couldn’t forcefully ask a civilian while on the station’s military side. I have a bit more latitude on the civvie side of the house.”
Fugget said with a frown, “Null space?”
“Null space is only what I know to call it. There was a strange spot on the surface of Liberty where there wasn’t anything. I mean, you could look a few miles in any direction and see planet, planet, planet and more planet, but look in the middle and there wasn’t anything. Sort of like someone was using camouflage designed for empty space, but on a planet.”
Altamont looked curious, yet still willing to stand between York and a long time friend, Ernie. “And what does this have to do with you or the military?”
York said, “I can live with seeing nothing, since I suspect Ernie does a bit of … how shall we say … creative importing. However, since both communications were made shortly before two known slaver attacks, I’d like to ask him who, what, where, when, why and how.” He didn’t say how much he really wanted to ask the questions when no one was around. Every police agency throughout human space used the usual good-cop bad-cop routine, even though everyone above four years old knew about the ruse. The interrogation technique was still used because the ploy worked. He was more than happy using the one-crazy-interrogator-without-controls as a questioning technique.
Altamont’s face clouded up. He turned to Fugget and was about to order Ernie’s arrest when York held up a restraining hand. “Sir, I think Ernie might be useful if we can explain things to him. I believe we should be very judicious in our discussions with the errant shuttle pilot.”
Fugget nodded. “Sir.” He spun on his heels, followed by Jaden and disappeared into the shuttle.
Kenna said, “York, I’m on board for whatever you have in mind.”
York said, “According to what I can fathom, the slavers have been trapped on Liberty or one of her moons since the Gambion made orbit three weeks ago. Empty Space has been running active scans for the past two weeks so they can’t go anywhere without being spotted. The Gambion will be leaving in another week for parts unknown. We may be able to catch the slavers sneaking from one hidey-hole to the next if we can let them think we’ve killed the station’s active scans. Ernie may—”
Altamont interrupted, “Hold up, you two. I want to hear more about this, but not in this big open bay. Lieutenant Altamont, if you’re up to it, would you see to getting our people and gear unloaded from the shuttle and let’s get settled in before we discuss this further.”
TWENTY-FOUR
It had been a busy two weeks for the 44th. Rebuilding the cattle hauler and training for the upcoming operation had been grueling. York’s days didn’t change much. He had company in his off times and assisting them where he could. The reservists filled the Wright’s B&B again and over time the meals degenerated from officious, stuffy officer gatherings to a family atmosphere with thrown food, laughter and plenty to drink. York had yet to throw food or drink alcohol, however he had clearly laughed once with genuine humor. Vesper and her new companion Moneypenny became fast friends, chasing each other around the table, each begging for the best morsels, or racing for accidently dropped food.
Captain Altamont asked, “Is everything in place?”
As the second highest-ranking person at the table, Kenna nodded. “Chrissie, Booger, and their teams are all set and ready.”
Altamont said, “I renew my objection to letting my youngest daughter do this.”
Kenna said, “Dad, you can’t stop her any more than you can stop me from taking a ride on the shuttle. My team is as ready as we can get, though I should be with Chrissie.”
York, as the next ranking person after Kenna, took his turn and said, “Captain, Ernie’s shuttle is as ready as we can make it and that’s why we need Lieutenant Altamont on the shuttle. It’s more than our reserve force, it may become our only ride home. Kenna is ver
y motivated to keep the shuttle on station if we need it. Your cattle hauler is as operational as we can make it in the time we have and as operational as we need it to be, except for taking it on a short shakedown cruise. I know we can’t do more than test fire the engines, but she should be good to go for a short trip.”
The captain nodded. “I hope the cattle hauler is more than operational, since I’m her first pilot in years. It’ll be a long walk home if our repairs don’t hold. Some of those repairs aren’t much more than duct tape and spit. I know your plan doesn’t allow for the cattle hauler to survive, but I plan to.”
York said, “She should hold. We still haven’t rechristened her. I’m not superstitious, yet it seems odd to take a spacecraft on even a short cruise without a name. It isn’t like it’s a shuttle or a little runabout.”
Captain Altamont laughed, “You can call her Dead Meat for all I care, just so long as the old girl does her duty.”
Kenna said, “I renew my objection to letting Dad fly anything on this mission, especially anything named Dead Meat.”
Captain Altamont responded, “Objection noted and overruled. If you don’t keep the shuttle on course, your father and your baby sister might not get home again.”
Fugget laughed, “Not to mention, she’s my ride home as well.”
Captain Altamont nodded, “According to York’s plan, we need the best pilot on the cattle hauler we can get. No brag, I’m the best.”
Fugget laughed again, “No, sir. The best is Booger or even Chrissie, but they’re both tasked to be somewhere else. I’ll admit you’re better than anyone other than those two and Ernie.”
