He half turned and looked to the woman who came to stand beside Laura. She looked as irritated as he felt.
"I'm Mischa. When we settled here Captain Valance accepted me as civilian leader. I assume you're Oz. I mean, Commander McPatrick."
He couldn't help but pause a moment as he looked at her. Much like the rest of the civilians who lived in the Botanical Gallery, she didn't wear a vacsuit he could see. She wore a loose, long dark blue skirt and a light scoop necked cream blouse with long sleeves. Most of the civilians made their under clothes out of reshaped emergency vacsuits that would expand around their entire bodies under their clothing in an emergency, and he found himself hoping that she was wearing one somewhere underneath. "Good to meet you."
"I'm sorry I'm late to this party, but my apartment door wouldn't open. Security just bypassed me out," She blew a curl of her long dark hair out of her face. "Did he do it?"
"I'm about to find out," Oz said as he turned towards the crowd. The group was growing, most of the newcomers seemed to be observing more than joining in on the shouting match that was under way. Oz strode to the top of the broad ramp way. "You have my attention Edward!" he boomed.
The crowd quieted, Edward looked to Oz between two guards who stood in his way. "So this is what it takes to get one of you Officers down here!" He sneered.
"What do you want?"
"What do we-" Edward looked to the people around him as though insulted and astounded by Oz's question. "Do you have a couple hours? I mean, let's start with not getting paid!"
"You're being given credit against service, room, board, and luxury rations on the materializers. If there’s any cash owing when the ship is safe and you leave, you'll get it." Oz answered in a clear, loud voice. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Mischa, who stood with arms crossed, staring down the ramp.
"You call that payment? It's less than a tenth of my last salary and I can't even spend the credits aboard unless I trade with one of the civilian shops and they're all service. There's no where to buy anything and we haven't seen a port in as long as I can remember!"
Oz’s patience was fraying. "If you can find a position off ship that pays more, we'll be happy to drop you off at the next port."
"And when would that be? Where will that be? We don't have any say over where we end up or what we're doing! We're not all soldiers hell bent on getting ourselves killed in some hopeless uprising, some of us have careers and more important things to do!"
Oz couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You were right beside me on the command deck when we last tried to pull into a safe port. There was no haven to be had."
"That asteroid mess was supposed to be a safe port?" Edward screeched.
"Yes! And like so many ports out here it's run into hard times."
"Hard times? Slavers! Killers! What are we doing out here anyway? Oh yeah! I almost forgot! They're hunting for us, these Regent people. Anyone who served on Triton gets public execution, isn't that right Commander?" He spat the last, mocking the rank.
Oz didn't know what he was about to say. If it were a military ship the entire front two rows of the crowd would spend the next week in the brig or confined to quarters. He wanted more than anything to command the Triton troops to stun Edward and his group of dissenters and drag them all to a small room where they could argue amongst themselves for a few days.
A hand landed on his shoulder from behind and he couldn't have been more relieved to see Chief Engineer Liam Grady. He was wearing his thick cotton blue robes, cinched at the waist by a thick red belt with the Triton silver skull flag imprinted on the end. "Would you like a hand?" He asked in a soothing, low tone.
Oz couldn't help but notice that his other hand touched the middle of Mischa's back with telling familiarity.
"Please," Oz said around a long exhale.
"Oh, here he comes, the teacher. Everyone quiet down while he buys the Officers time," mocked Edward.
"I couldn't help but overhear you, Edward. There's no need for this, or for your display."
"My display? They ignored every request I put in to see an officer over the last twenty hours!"
"I'm talking about the fire, Edward. You could have gotten someone killed. The suppression system withdrew all the oxygen from that room until the squadron arrived," The Chief Engineer's low voice was gentle, but carried over the crowd. The man was as broad shouldered as Oz, and only a little shorter, but somehow he seemed like a gentle giant, larger than life and entirely at ease with himself.
"You're saying I-"
"Everyone knows you and Leland March were at the core of this incident. Commander McPatrick could have you both in the brig along with anyone else who left a trace of themselves in that apartment but he decided to listen instead."
"But look what it took to get him down here!"
Liam smiled slightly and took a moment to regard Oz with a raised eyebrow. "He's here now, speak to him. Ask for solutions, don't accuse him of not providing them."
"That's just it! He's not providing! He gives skilled workers like Leland and I menial jobs and worse pay that's nothing but an ‘I owe you!’" Edward's fervour was fading, the crowd had begun to settle.
"Everyone aboard has food, practical clothing and a generous allotment of cumulative leisure rations for the materializers, manufacturing bay or for a good time at one of the entertainment establishments. That's all free aboard ship, it doesn't come out of your credits, which are being counted as cash, mind you. The Captain could have given you credit with some distant government to delay payment, but he’s offering real cash instead, pre-exchanged with whatever port you disembark to. Read the details of the agreement your representative, Mischa, approved sometime."
"What use are credits if we can’t use them with the materializers to boost our so called luxury rations? A second pillow cost me fifteen units! We only get twenty five a day!"
"That's a compromise everyone makes. It sounds more like you're simply worried-"
"Don't talk down to me you condescending son of a-"
"We're all worried," Liam spoke over Edward, his voice filling the ramp way and beyond. "We're all far from home. Some of our homes are unrecognisable and if we went back life would be much harder than it is aboard. There are over thirteen hundred slaves who are making themselves at home in bunks made for soldiers, technicians, pilots and other crewmen. I've visited them and they're happy. Not one of them has seen this place." He gestured to the botanical gallery as a whole. "But they're happy to be free. Most of them are looking to be of service thinking that the bunks they’re moving into will be home for months, maybe years. Some of them are outside the ship even now, helping with repairs."
"They’re used to a lesser standard! How can we be expected to live trapped here?"
"We're all trapped," Liam said with a flat finality that hushed everyone and caught Edward by surprise. "Until we decide we are free."
"What kind of-"
"Let me help you find your freedom," Liam appealed gently.
Edward seemed to realize that the majority of the crowd wasn't interested in supporting him any longer; they were listening to Chief Grady. He nodded, red faced.
"Oz, do we have a ship for these people?" Liam asked in a whisper.
Oz looked to Jason, Laura and Mischa. "The Cold Reaver's gone, so is the Clever Dream and the Sampson will fly, but it's iffy. The recently captured ships haven’t been fully inspected yet, but we didn’t capture anything that won’t fly under its own power."
Liam folded his hands in his sleeves and nodded. "This Edward fellow won't be the last dissenter. The crew is feeling the pressure and getting weary. Normally I'd say we should start moving more people into the Botanical Gallery and opening up more of the junior Officers quarters so we could space out the lower crewmen in the bunks."
"That's what I was thinking," Jason agreed.
"But we have to have a quick pressure release. We're too close to combat."
"So we give them a ship," Oz mut
tered.
"Is that really the best solution? Was the fire they started really bad enough to trip the emergency extinguishing systems?" asked Mischa.
"I checked. They hotwired the stove so it wouldn't shut itself off once it detected a high flame then used a branch to start the fire. If they were caught in the room they would have had to depend on their vacsuits for an environment. If someone else, like one of Iloona's children were hiding in a cupboard or closet they would have died without one." Liam replied quietly.
"Then I don't want them here," Mischa agreed solemnly. "Give them a ship, Commander. I don’t care if it’s only got one working thruster and a pressurized closet."
"Which is the best of the captured ships?" Oz asked Jason, who was already looking through the initial condition report from the Flight Control Centre.
"That’s a tie between a sixty one meter converted cargo vessel called The Lucien and a thirty meter long converted customs ship. I suggest the customs ship. No need to offer them anything larger."
"What about the Caran ships out there? They haven't hailed us since we left the Ossimi Ring and I don't think they'd give them much of a chance either," Laura asked.
"We'll have to make sure they know which side of the nebula to come out on and hope for the best. I mean, they're asking for a kind of freedom we can't give them right now. It's not like there's a free port inside the nebula."
Oz closed his eyes and nodded. "They have an hour to get aboard and launch. We're not giving them any personnel, only a squad emergency survival kit and a month of food each."
"As good as we can afford on short notice," Liam agreed.
"One more thing. They don't come back. Once they leave they're on their own," Laura added. She was a lead technician, an Officer, but she had no real say in what was going on.
"You're right," Oz admitted. "Besides, I don't want to see what Jake would do to someone who starts a fire on his ship."
Liam turned towards the crowd. "We're willing to provide you with a serviceable ship, supplies for a month and all the freedom you can handle. We'll give you a course that should give you a fair chance at avoiding our pursuers. You have one hour to quietly gather your possessions and disembark."
"What? You're just going to give us some old wreck and send us off?"
"Unless you'd rather stay here under these awful conditions," Liam laughed.
"Can we have time to decide? I don't know if we even have a pilot."
Oz stepped in beside Liam and shook his head gravely. "You have one hour to do it all or fall in line. This is a one time offer. Next time you get to leave it'll be in port or out an airlock," his tone was stern, cold.
Liam nodded silently.
"Oz, we have an emergency signal coming in," Jason whispered hurriedly. "One of our birds just caught a scan of a battle group on the other side of the nebula."
"I don’t have time to deal with this,” Oz said dismissively, gesturing towards Edward and the few who still stood with him. “Neither do you, Chief," he finished.
"You're right."
"Officer Kameri, have three squads shadow whoever would like to leave aboard the converted customs ship and stick to the one hour schedule," he told the Jpunior Lieutenant. “Don’t let Edward or Leland out of your sight. If they give you any trouble, arrest them.”
"Yes sir."
As Oz turned to leave he noticed that the crowd had diminished to a dozen. Most of whom seemed to be on the verge of abandoning their leader. Nothing Edward or Leland said was convincing enough for most of them to leave with them.
"Commander McPatrick," Mischa called after him.
He stopped.
"I don't want anyone who was involved with the fire living in the Gallery."
"Kameri, make sure your team moves everyone involved with the fire out of the Botanical Gallery within the hour. Set them up in that converted customs ship and lock it down. They don’t have a right to walk the decks of the Triton. "
Mischa was at first shocked, but then fixed him with a smile. "Good meeting you Commander."
“This has been the first sign of trouble since you were put in charge of the civilian body down here. Are there any other trouble makers you need to tell us about?”
“No one like Leland or Edward.”
“Well, they disabled your apartment door before starting all this, so that tells me they were afraid people would listen to you.”
“She’s well liked and respected here, Commander,” Chief Grady said.
“Good, then repair what you can and make sure your people are ready for anything. We’re not out of the woods yet,” Oz told her as he began walking towards the main exit from the Botanical Gallery.
Everyone else followed, and Mischa made certain that she was right beside him. “What’s going on out there?”
“We’re being hunted by several destroyers and we’re outnumbered. I may have to seal you and your people inside the botanical section. Is the botanical gallery ready for that?”
“We could sustain ourselves for years,” Mischa replied, deeply concerned. “Could it really come to that?”
“I’m just preparing for the worst.”
“Thank you for being honest, Commander,” she said as she stopped at the exit.
Oz felt a pang of guilt at giving a civilian so much reason to worry, and for passing so much responsibility to her, but he could do little to reassure her. “We’ll get through this, get help from Junior Lieutenant Kameri and his squads whenever you can, that’s what they’re assigned to you for.” He didn’t turn to watch the main botanical gallery door close behind him, though he could feel the rumbling it caused on the deck.
“I don’t like where this is going, Oz,” Laura said quietly. “What do you expect to happen out here?”
“We’re hiding in a very small nebula and there’s no telling how much backup those destroyers are bringing in.”
“But there’s no way they can find us from the outside. Even if they start patrolling within, we’ll probably see them before they see us.”
“That’s not the problem I’m preparing for. I’m thinking of what’s going to happen when we finally make a break for it. I’m not going to assume luck will be on our side, especially when those destroyers specialize in long range. We can come out where they never expect us to and still get several shots off before we’re clear.”
Laura nodded, knowing full well that Triton couldn’t handle much more damage. “So you’re planning for an all or nothing tactic. That’s reckless and you know it.”
“You’re right,” Oz agreed tersely.
“How are you planning on hedging your bets, Oz?” Jason asked calmly.
“I’m taking a page from your playbook. As soon as I get to the bridge I’m going to order everyone except for the civilians in the botanical section and essential crew to relocate to the captured raider vessels. Then I’m going to put all our pilots on alert.”
“Now I really don’t like where this is going,” Laura muttered.
Chapter 9
The Last Piece
The creation cubicles used to house bare framework systems before they generated living tissue looked like collapsible coffins. It was something that irked Eve whenever she saw them, and over the past two weeks she’d seen many. She had quietly been working at improving the creativity level of the framework constructs, so they would be something more than basically skilled when they were finally deployed. As it was, they had plenty of people joining the Order of Eden Military, but war was coming, and possibly on two fronts. Her machines wouldn’t be able to fight for them, not completely, and their human forces may deplete too quickly to be replenished if things became truly heated. A better, thinking framework soldier, technician, and servant was needed.
The small team of workers Eve assigned to the task of setting up her experiment were busy opening the half height coffin, pulling each end of the thin walled black case so it could accommodate someone of average stature. The long top came open to revea
l the bare framework.
It looked like a human skeleton made of dull grey metal. “They look so delicate,” Eve muttered.
Hampon looked at her with mild surprise from where he stood at her side. “I suppose. Perhaps I’ve known their true capabilities for too long to see them that way.”
“Perhaps,” she replied as she watched them place the synthetic bones inside an upright stasis tube. They drifted through the thick brown liquid, piling up at the bottom.
“How did you discover the details of Jacob Valance’s waking?”
“Everything you loaded into the Jacob model was recorded in Vindyne records. I’m copying the same medical, technological and combat knowledge databases into this framework using the same integration method to connect them to what’s left of Patrick’s memory.”
“That’s obvious, what I’m talking about is this.” Hampon projected the security footage of Jacob Valance waking up in the cargo bay of the Samson against the wall beside them. “How did we get footage from the Samson?”
“I don’t know, it was in the compressed archives.”
“There was no record of who put it there?”
“Only an automated entry number assigned to one of the archival management systems. I suspect it was sent to one of Regent Galactic’s data collection nodes while Wheeler had possession of the Triton.”
“Before he died. Yes, he did make his claim right before Valance turned the tables on him, so I suppose the Samson must have been aboard. I think it’s remarkable that you’re duplicating the conditions. Do you really think it’ll work with the memory modifications you’ve installed?”
“I imagined and recorded them myself. I’ve been observing Patrick from his perspective long enough to know how he would experience the substitutions I’ve put in place.”
“You’re implanting a tailored daydream you recorded as one of his memories? You are incredible.”
“I altered it slightly so he would feel that the memory was his own, but essentially, yes. The human mind is easy to master when you can play back entire thought processes and observe them from a distance.” Eve had to admit, she enjoyed having Hampon’s favour. He kept few secrets from what she could tell, and treated her exceptionally well. His trust in her, how she could surprise and amuse him were all factors in her warm feelings towards him. He, in turn, surprised her from time to time. His goals were not so different from her own; he too wanted a pure galaxy, and to protect it from all her enemies. His weakness was his appetite for power, but it was tempered by his need to play a part. He loved being the Child Prophet, the High Seat of the Order of Eden, and he had eliminated or distanced himself from all his contemporaries.
Fragments sf-6 Page 6
