by M. D. Cooper
“Can we stick him in an escape pod?”
“And if he ejects himself so he can go find Bubbs?” Kylie’s eyes widened at the thought. “We’ll never find him again, and we’ll have to be the ones to tell her….”
“OK, OK, I get your point. It would be a really bad idea…long-term. But in the short-term….”
Kylie cringed. “He’s not that bad, is he? I mean, he’s just a cat, right? So what if he whines a little? It’s not like he’ll never see Bubbs again. He’ll see her in another week, if we’re lucky.”
“If we’re lucky, he’ll settle down for a nap and stay asleep for the remainder of this trip.” Ricket picked up her beer bottle. “I wonder if this ship has a cryopod tucked in it somewhere…and if it can be modified for cats? There has to be something on this smugglers’ tub.”
“There are two, but they’re not safe for pets. Especially ones as small as Fizzle Pop.”
“Small? Have you seen the size of him and how much he eats?” Ricket scrunched up her nose. “He’s more like a fur turkey than a cat.”
Kylie shrugged. “Compared to us, he’s small. I think he has a tapeworm.”
Ricket stroked her chin and planted a leg up on her chair. “We could lock him in the false conduit they had the AIs in. He might even like it.”
Kylie chuckled to herself as she heard Mr. Fizzle Pop growl from somewhere on the ship. It sounded mournful.
“BUBBS! NO!” Mr. Fizzle Pop let out a loud cry, and an icy chill raced up Kylie’s back.
“Oh, shit,” Ricket said and laid her cards down.
Kylie had the same idea, and grabbed her beer before following close on Ricket’s heels as she rushed out of the galley and headed straight for the bridge.
“We’ll just lock him out, no sweat,” Ricket muttered.
Kylie slowed and sighed as she heard a mournful meow, and accepted that she couldn’t hide from the cat. She had to go help him. “Sorry, it’s not in my nature. I grew up on a farm. He might be a rude, stupid cat, but he’s upset right now…. I can’t leave him alone.”
Ricket shook her head as she reached the bridge and settled herself into the pilot’s seat. “Have it your way. I’m going to drink my beer in peace and quiet, while you go console a cat who calls us ‘Asshole’ like it’s our names.”
“Well, when you put it that way….”
Ricket continued, counting items off on her fingers. “He chews up our stuff, he poops where he shouldn’t, and he eats way more than his share of rations. True, he’s fluffy, and cute…and he purrs….” Ricket sighed and hung her head for a moment, eyeing her beer. “Fine…I’m coming.”
* * * * *
“I’m going to go catch some shut-eye,” Kylie said as she rose from her seat on the bridge of the Solidarity.
In front of her, Ricket was settled down in the pilot seat, drifting off to sleep. The woman’s legs were propped up on the navigation panel, while in her arm, she cradled the sleeping—and quivering—form of Mr. Fizzle Pop.
“BUBBS…ASSHOLE…” Mr. Fizzle Pop snored and sniffed, curling his tail around his body.
Ricket yawned, her eyes narrowing with fatigue. “Sure, sure. We’ll be OK up here, Captain.”
Kylie patted the Hand-agent-turned-cat-sitter on the shoulder and walked down the passage toward the captain’s quarters. She glanced around sleepily as she strode through the ship’s passages and considered giving the ship a quick walkthrough to ensure nothing was amiss, but another yawn convinced her that catching a few winks was undeniably a top priority.
A minute later, Kylie was settling onto the bed in her quarters. It was comfortable enough, and she tucked her hands behind her head as she gazed up at the overhead.
The ship was quiet, other than the gentle hum of the engines—a sound and feeling that she’d long ago become accustomed to. It had lulled Kylie to sleep for years, and she could remember her first space flights, when ships seemed deafeningly quiet, yet loud all at the same time. Just thinking of it brought back memories of her family and the voyages they had taken together.
Back in the beginning, her father’s ships were humble and built for missions and relief trips. Kylie had been nearly twelve by the time she was allowed to go with the boys into space. Her room had been smaller than Chassea’s quarters, but had included a large view screen.
Space was so big and vast that young Kylie had felt like the floor might drop out from underneath her, and she’d fall forever. It’d made her feel strangely claustrophobic, the feeling building inside her until she’d begun screaming.
Her brother, Paul, was the first one to run into her cabin. By then, he was a teenager and taking the role of ‘the pastor’s son’ seriously. He wore a suit jacket and well-pressed black pants with earnest sobriety.
Bending down, he took Kylie by the shoulders. “Kylie, what is it? What’s wrong?”
At twelve, she was just beginning to mature, yet Momma still made her wear pigtails. Kylie was tall and lanky, with bony knees sticking out from under her dress, so Paul didn’t have to bend too far to stare into her eyes as he said, “Are you ill? Kylie, talk to me.”
She stopped screaming long enough for Paul to wipe her cheeks clean.
“Space is so big and so empty,” she finally whimpered.
Paul laughed gently and shook his head. “It’s both of those things. Scary sometimes, isn’t it?”
Kylie nodded. She had been on small trips, but nothing as long-distance as this. “And quiet, but loud. The engines never stop purring, and it’s cold. I’m never cold back home, but here, I am, even though there are environmental controls.”
Paul led her over to the viewing window, and she reluctantly followed. Together they gazed out the window. “Father’s done this almost all his life, Momma too—short trips—but things are changing now.”
“Because of the AIs?” Kylie asked, just beginning to understand their place in it all.
Paul nodded. “That’s right. One day, it’ll be our job to do what Father does and share the good news about how we’re intended to be a pure species. It’ll be our job to open their eyes. Me and David and you, too. Even if you are a girl.”
Kylie’s face twisted with doubt. “You think he regrets me being a girl?”
“No, no. Of course not. I think you might be the most special of us. But a life of space travel is hard. I wished better for you when you were born, that’s all—that’s all I meant. Father, too; I think he wanted an easy life for you.”
“That sounds so boring, Paul.” Kylie scrunched her nose. “I don’t want boring. I’m looking for adventure. Something fun!”
He smiled and ruffled her hair. “Adventure can be dangerous, too.”
“That’s the fun part!”
Paul straightened back up. “I guess it is. Hard to imagine little Kylie out there, traveling the stars and exploring new places.” His gaze bounced between the view of space and Kylie’s face. “Actually, it’s not that hard to imagine at all. I just hope it doesn’t take you too far from home.”
Kylie pursed her lips together and blew out a disbelieving breath. “That’ll never happen. I’m a Rhoads, just like you. We stick together.”
* * * * *
‘We stick together.’
Had any other words ever come back to haunt Kylie so much? She didn’t think so, but then she hadn’t known how far things would go, nor could she have even imagined the madness that would drive the family on. Finding it impossible to sleep with the memory of her brother and the awareness of what she was heading to do, Kylie sat up in the bed.
Marge said.
Marge giggled.
Marge deadpanned,
BETTER AND WORSE
STELLAR DATE: 12.17.8948 (Adjusted Gregorian)
LOCATION: Near the C1 Brewery, Chimin-1
REGION: Chimin Aster, Hanoi System (independent)
“What about the mining operations?” Grayson asked as he followed Winter through a twisting passage that led toward the brewery.
“Back online, but we don’t have enough bodies to meet the mountain of back-orders—half of which were cancelled. I’m still sorting out which are still standing. We sent out word to other stations in the system, and Geonova—they’re co-orbital with Battia, but independent—has a ship with a few new hires en route, but we need way more than that. I was hoping Silstrand could help recruit.”
“Absolutely. The Polis Fury is just the vanguard. There’s a fleet on our heels that’s assigned to stabilizing the Fringe. They were wrapping things up in Gedri and should be here in about a week. Can Chimin hold on that long?”
“Gedri, eh?” Winter asked. “How’s ol’ Maverick?”
“Dead…I hope,” Grayson replied. “Was a shitshow. I guess that’s par for the course in Gedri. Either way, they’ll be jumping in any day now.”
“So long as our food supply holds out.” Winter walked past a pair of guards and opened a thick plas door. He led Grayson into a small warehouse.
The racks held food, but the supplies were obviously dwindling. Grayson studied the stocks as Winter led him over to a row of barrels and prised the lid off the first one.
“We just received this shipment from Battia. Supposed to be oats for us and barley to start the brewery back up.”
Grayson knew of Chimin’s beer—the drink was legendary in some circles. He’d drunk enough of it himself, even as far away in the Silstrand System, to prove that. He peered into the barrel as Winter scooped up some of the grain with his hand.
“Shouldn’t you—” Grayson began, but then spotted movement amongst the seeds, as roaches scurried away from the light, and his brow lowered in anger.
“Battia sent you this?” Grayson asked, keeping his anger under wraps, though he could see Winter wasn’t as interested in hiding his own fury; the man’s eyes had narrowed, and his pupils had contracted, giving his pale face an even more cold and dangerous look than normal. Battia knew the inhabitants of Chimin were fighting for their survival, yet sent food they wouldn’t be able to consume—not unless they were starving.
“It took forever to convince them to send us anything at all, and this is what we get. There’s another warehouse filled with it on the docks,” Winter ground out the words. “We thought this batch was clean when we brought it down here, but then the little fuckers hatched.”
Grayson pursed his lips and shook his head as Winter continued.
“We have supplies coming in from Geonova Station, along with the miners, but it’ll just be enough for a few days. There are families, children on this floating rock. What the hell do I say to them?”
“That food is coming.” Grayson met Winter’s eyes, still amazed to see how much the man really cared. “I won’t let these people starve, I’ll get the food they need from Battia; until then, we’ll bring down what we have from the Polis Fury.”
Winter grunted, and the vein on his temple pulsed. “A band aid when we need a tourniquet. We need to get the farms up and running again so we’ll have a harvest when the dried goods run out. We need to reestablish trade, and to do that, we need to brew beer. We need—”
“Winter,” Grayson interrupted. “We’ll get it done. I won’t leave the Hanoi System until it is. And for what it’s worth, these people are lucky to have you.”
Winter started. “Well, I never thought I’d hear that from the likes of you.”
Grayson chuckled. “I never thought I’d say it, either.”
The burly man clasped a hand on Grayson’s shoulder. “There’s someone that wants to meet you. I need you to get a read on her, see what you think.”
“You trust my opinion?”
“Didn’t I just say that?”
* * * * *
Grayson followed Winter to the governor’s office. As the door opened, he heard someone complaining at the front desk. “He’s been avoiding me for the last two days. If you could please tell me where Winter is....”
He watched Winter visibly hold back a sigh as his eyes raked down the tall woman’s trim back, take in her perfect ass, and then rise back up again.
Grayson kept his own eyes up top and noted the military-style cap resting on a tightly spiraled bun on the back of her head.
“My ears were ringing,” Winter said as they stepped inside.
On the other side of the desk, a plainly dressed, but tidy-looking woman stood up. “Well, there he is, Captain. See, I told you he checks in from time to time.”
“Captain Ranstock,” Winter stepped forward as the statuesque woman turned, “I’m sorry I haven’t been around. I wanted to personally introduce you to Colonel Grayson of the SSF.”
Beneath her arched brows, Ranstock’s eyes held more than a little fire as she took in the sight of the two men.
Grayson stepped forward and offered her his hand. “Captain, it’s a pleasure.”
Hands clasped behind her back, Ranstock gazed at Grayson’s outstretched palm for a moment before making the move to shake it. “The SSF’s arrival here has been anxiously expected. I’m hoping we will get a chance to sit down and discuss Chimin’s future…and leadership.” As she spoke, the woman gave Winter a sidelong look—something Grayson found amusing and perplexing, all at the same time.
“Of course,” he replied with a diplomatic smile. “That’s why I’m here. I’m up-to-date regarding your part in the events that transpired here. I must thank you for helping to ensure that the Papote Alliance didn’t escape with that virus—or with Chief Raynes.”
Ranstock pursed her lips. “I’m afraid I’m at more of a disadvantage, Colonel. I’ve been told nothing about you, other than you were on your way to help put Chimin back together.”
“My AI, Alice, will send you a data packet that will explain my qualifications and service records, if you require it.”
Her jaw shifted back and forth. “For the sake of formality, that sounds like it would be…helpful.”
Grayson had half expected her to deny the request. She was going to be an interesting one to tango with; he was looking forward to the challenge.
“Absolutely. Alice?”
“Winter,” Grayson turned his attention toward his old shipmate, “do you have a conference room where we can sit down and hammer out some details?”
Winter nodded. “Sure. Yeah, both of you follow me this way.”
He walked around the front desk, and Grayson could see a few beads of sweat on the poor fellow’s brow. His heart was in the right place, but Grayson knew that Winter didn’t have the temperament for politics or negotiations. Lucky for the people of Chimin, Grayson did. He could do this all day.
He wasn’t sure what Ranstock’s motivations were, or if they were pure, but he intended to get to the bottom of her rather surreptitious arrival. One way or the other.
* * * * *
Cassandra set a carafe of coffee on the conference room table, her expression carefully neutral as her eyes flicke
d across those present.
Grayson was the first to reach for the coffee, pouring three cups. “Thank you, Cassandra,” he said with a smile.
She gave him a pleasant glance that lasted a few seconds too long before turning and leaving the room.
“Good help you have here,” Grayson said as he handed Winter and then Ranstock their coffee.
“Don’t I know it.” Winter sipped his coffee. “I can send for some rations for lunch, depending how long this takes.”
Grayson expected that the chat might take a bit, but he didn’t want to dishearten Winter just yet. He cleared his throat and kept an eye on Captain Ranstock. She hadn’t yet reached for her coffee, but after a moment, she slid it over to the side and left it untouched. She folded her hands and gazed impassively at the pair of men.
“Let’s get down to business, then, shall we?” Grayson said before he sipped his coffee, using it as an excuse to hold Ranstock’s gaze. Pleasant as she was to look at, there was a hardness in her eyes. For reasons that were not yet clear, Chimin was important to her. “We’ll know soon enough how long this will take.”
“Yes, let’s,” she said in a clipped tone.
Grayson pursed his lips a moment before beginning. “I’m here on behalf of the Silstrand government. An accord has been struck between Silstrand and Scipio, as Winter knows.”
“I do?” Winter asked, his face twisting into a confused scowl.
Grayson resisted the urge to smack Winter on the back of the head…or kick him under the table. “Errm, maybe you weren’t paying that close attention at the time. Either way, I’m here in an official capacity to bring the Hanoi System into the Alliance.”
“Why would Silstrand care about Hanoi?” Ranstock asked. “For that matter, why would Scipio want peace with Silstrand? I’m not much for history, but even I know those two have been at each other’s throats for some time.”
“The details are in the packet Alice sent you. Simply put, there’s a new player on the field known as Orion. War with Orion has made for some unlikely alliances,” Grayson explained. “Scipio wants to ensure that the Fringe is secure. They were prepared to do it by any means necessary, but another group in the mix—a new player called the Transcend—brokered a deal that keeps Silstrand independent if we secure the Fringe. Both the Transcend and Scipio are funneling resources into Silstrand, and those resources and protections will extend to Hanoi and its constituent states—Chimin, the various stations, and Battia—once they sign the accord.”
