The Hidden Prophet: Starship Fairfax Book 2 - The Kuiper Chronicles

by Benjamin Douglas

  Chapter 9

  It wasn’t all bad.

  True, Ceres was the last place they wanted to go back to, but once they picked up their cargo, they were to deliver it to a station orbiting Mars. Really, Lucas thought, he couldn’t have planned this better if he’d tried. They would be flying directly to their desired destination, with only a couple of days’ delay, which bought them the ability to fly without being stopped and questioned every time an Empire affiliate came by, or being crippled and robbed willy-nilly by any of the numerous pirate outfits in the inner system.

  After a smooth flight, they came into space around Ceres, and found a scene slightly more macabre than the one they’d left a day and a half ago. Debris littered the orbit, and a few chunks of decimated hulls could be seen.

  Caspar clucked her tongue, gazing up at the viewscreen. “Think this has anything to do with the coup in Rust?”

  “Seems awfully coincidental if it doesn’t.” Lucas opened a comm. “Darren, please come to the bridge.”

  “I’m here.” Lucas started a little, then caught his breath. Darren peeled himself away from his perpetual wall-post in the back.

  “Great. You have any input on what we’re seeing here?” He gestured at the screen.

  “No.”

  Caspar scoffed.

  “You’re a wealth of useful information.” Lucas gestured that he was done with him. “Thanks.”

  Mulligan announced from the comm station that she was picking up a wide broadcast, and played it for the bridge. Ceres was under quarantine. No one was allowed into the tubes. Questions were to be directed to the Geta-4 station in orbit.

  “Happily, we don’t need to go into the tubes this time.” Lucas put the brief back up on the screen. “Our contact is, in fact, on Geta-4. I guess it’s time to see how good a job Cyclops and his boys did of wiping our ID.”

  The crew noticeably stiffened. Lucas didn’t blame them. If Empire personnel on Geta-4 ascertained that Fairfax was a Kuiper Fleet military ship, it didn’t just mean the crew was in trouble. It might be the incident to spark an all-out war. Lucas swallowed against the dry lump forming in his throat, and told himself to forget about that for the present and focus on the business at hand. Be a good pirate.

  They came closer. A number of ships were orbiting near the station. Lucas wondered just what had happened here since they’d left. Some appeared to be derelict hulls, while others were very much operational. He glanced at a scan on his console, and the lump grew larger. Of the operating ships in orbit, there were three stag-class and one heavy battleship, all Earth Empire Fleet.

  “Sir.” Mulligan spun to face him. “I’m picking up a livefeed request from the battleship Sovereign. Accept?”

  “Yes.” Lucas’ voice came out a dry rasp, and he cleared his throat. “Onscreen.”

  Lucas had his first glimpse of an Empire bridge. It was familiar enough, insomuch as military means military. Clean, orderly, functional, with just enough of a sense of ceremony to put all the grunts in place and keep them there. The captain was standing, scrolling through holoscreens over a device held by an aide. His chair was ringed by command stations, his crew all focused on their consoles. Backs straight, eyes attentive, voices low. For a moment, Lucas pined for the cool, calm command he’d enjoyed under the late Captain Harris, back before all this madness began. He didn’t belong on a souped-up starship dressed to look like a pirate freighter, hauling cargo for some secret upstart crime syndicate. He belonged over there, on that clean, ordered bridge.

  “Freighter, we see you’re here for Rome Inc.” The captain spoke without looking up. Lucas’ own back straightened, and he remembered why they were here. There was a job to do.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  The captain glanced up for a fraction of a second, an eyebrow quirked. That sounded too military, Lucas decided. “That’s right,” he added. “What’s it to you?” He cringed. Too far?

  The captain handed the device off to the aid and sat in the chair, now facing the screen. “What’s it to me is to make sure we have an understanding here, kid. You are not allowed access to the surface at this time. I don’t care who you’re running freight for. Understood?”

  “Understood. Station’s still open for business though, right?”

  The captain sneered. “Yes, she’s open. Now get out of my face.” The screen went back to exterior cam view, and the crew breathed a collective sigh of relief.

  “Ok,” Lucas muttered. “That went well.”

  The bridge doors hissed open, and Private Tompkins entered.

  “Private.” Lucas nodded at him. “Adams doesn’t need you right now?”

  Tompkins sniffed and sat lazily at one of the open consoles. Lucas sighed inwardly, wondering if it was any use bothering to whip his young crew into some semblance of decorum. “There isn’t room down there for him to turn around, with all the new mods, and he can’t hear himself think with Officer Jan all excited about being an expert now. I hardly think I’m missed. Anyway, what’s going on up here?”

  Lucas gave him his best attempt at a stern, captain-esque look. “What’s going on up here, Sir.”

  “Oh, you can just call me Tompkins, Sir. No need to be formal.”

  This time the sigh was audible.

  “Captain, Geta-4 is in range,” Mulligan said.

  Lucas pulled up the brief once more, scanning for the precise location. “Good. Put in a request to dock on sublevel nine, Private.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Geta-4 was a mid-sized station by Earth Empire standards, but it looked enormous in its orbit around the planetoid Ceres. It must have been just small enough to be held in place by Ceres’ gravity. It was shaped something like an enormous spinning top, with the widest point at its middle, and narrowing levels extending both up and down away from it. Most of the large docks were on the sublevels.

  “Jeffrey, are you awake?” Lucas asked.

  Beep. “I do not require sleep. I’m surprised you didn’t know that, Lucas.”

  Ah, he’s learned my name. Lovely.

  “For the duration of this mission, you will address me as…” He thought for a moment. “Captain Jack.” Caspar raised her eyebrows at him, and he shrugged. They needed cover names.

  “I will?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Well, alright then. Since you said the magic word.”

  “Very good. Thank you, Jeffrey. I’d like you to run a scan of sublevel nine of the Geta-4 station, specifically the area around whichever dock they direct us to. I want to know how many people are waiting for us, how they are armed, the nature of the station’s docking clamps, and whether or not you can execute an override on them.”

  “You don’t ask for much, Jack.”

  “Captain Jack. Can you do all that?”

  “I suppose I could. Think that I should?”

  “Yes, please do so.”

  He shared an exasperated look with Caspar, though she seemed to be suppressing a grin. That’s fine, he thought. Just wait until you have to deal with an AI between you and your guns.

  “Livefeed from Geta-4, Captain.”

  “On-screen.”

  The message was audio only, the screen going blank. “Freighter, please come to dock four in subsection BB, sublevel nine. Be prepared to present credentials.” The sound zapped off.

  “Credentials?” Lucas raised an eyebrow. He pulled up the brief one more time, but didn’t see anything about credentials. “Jeffrey, do you know anything about this?”

  “I might.”

  “Would you care, oh magnificent computer, to elucidate us?”

  “Well, now you’re speaking a language I understand, Captain Jack. Certainly. You will note from your brief that you have been instructed to carry Rome Inc. multi-tool devices on your person at all times. Which, I might add, I notice you have so far neglected to do. Shame shame, Sir.”

  Lucas lifted his arms, looking around for said multitool.

  “There, Captain.” Caspar
pointed at the tiny compartment that used to house Sock’s malfunctioning dispensary unity beside his chair. She had already retrieved hers. He reached inside and pulled out a little oblong, black rectangle, and snapped it to life, then clasped it to his belt.

  “Alright, Jeffrey,” he said. “I am so armed, and the rest of my crew are following suit.”

  “Very good, Sir. These devices will provide all necessary credentials for the mission. They will also replicate station ID badges if need be, and have all the functionality of your everyday top-of-the-line multitool—micro PC, cutting device, keycard generator. Oh. And, in the event you or any of your crew decide to take up arms against a Rome Inc. employee, the device will inject a deadly agent into your bloodstream, and you will die within seconds.”

  Lucas gulped. “Handy. Is that last bit really necessary?”

  “Hopefully not, Sir. But that depends entirely on you.”

  Randall guided them in toward Geta-4, until finally Jeffrey took control to dock them. Lucas looked around at his bridge crew.

  “Alright. Caspar, Darren, Mulligan, with me. Tompkins?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Hmm Sir. Keep an eye on the ship, will you?”

  “Aye, Sir.”

  “Into the lion’s den,” he muttered beneath his breath.

  Chapter 10

  “I have a friend on level two,” Bone Crusher rumbled.

  Ada spun in her chair. “Really? What kind of friend, Crush?”

  He gave a sloppy grin. “Aww, ya know. The pretty kind. Only kind worth havin’. Anyhow, I say we head for level two. Stop in to see her.”

  Joyce bristled visibly. Ada shot her a look that said ‘don’t worry.’ “Sounds like pretty good cover to me. Moses, can you ask for a livefeed with the station?”

  “Yes, Ada. Requesting feed now.”

  They got an audio-only feed and asked to be docked on level two. Bone Crusher gave his friend’s name—Lady Umbrador—and they were given a dock and a code to get in without passing through customs.

  “Very nice,” Ada muttered. “Too bad we don’t have anything with us worth selling—could have made a haul.”

  They pulled into a small hangar bay, and Moses landed the ship. Ada patted the wall of the cockpit. “I think I could get used to this old bird.”

  “Suit yourself.” Joyce unstrapped and headed toward the back of the ship. “I just want to find civilization again.”

  As promised, they waltzed into the stations, no customs or security check. At the first public console available, Bone Crusher stopped to make a call. Ada and Joyce stood a few feet away to give him a little privacy, but they couldn’t help but sneak a peek at the mysterious “friend.” She appeared smiling on the screen, a frazzle of blue hair all around her face, which was exquisitely made up, complete with an Orion’s Belt of beauty marks arcing up one cheek. She also appeared to be about twenty years Crush’s senior.

  “Crush, darling!”

  “Dianne, how are ya?”

  “Better, now that you’re here.” She squinted seductively. Ada quirked her mouth to the side. She wasn’t sure she knew how to squint seductively. “Busy though at the moment, darling. Lots happening in Ceres space today, and I’ve got some business to oversee. Are you here for long? Can you come and see me… tonight?”

  Joyce pinched her lips together and looked away, arms folded.

  “Anything for you, Dianne. Mind if we dawdle on your floor until then?”

  “No, of course not, darling! Make yourselves at home. Charge anything you need to my expense account. I’ll tell my bursar to expect it, so there are no surprises. Come see me after dinner, will you? We’ll have cocktails, and… socialize.” She ran the tip of her tongue over her top teeth, then blew him a kiss. Bone Crusher guffawed, gave a very obvious wink, and said he’d see her then. The feed ended.

  “That’s an awfully convenient friendship you have, Crush.” Ada was smiling for the first time all day, realizing they’d just been invited to eat at Crush’s wealthy patron’s expense.

  “Idn’t it, though? C’mon. I’ll show ya around. A day with the girls!” He grinned and trotted off. Ada and Joyce exchanged dubious looks, then followed.

  Crush proved to be an excellent tour guide for Dianne’s level of Geta-4. First, they went to a tailor, where they all had measurements taken for new all-purpose suits. On their way out, they picked up new undergarments. Then they went to a spa, where Ada declined Crush’s invitation to bathe with him, and took a private tub, instead. She almost cried real tears as she eased her body into the hot water, so long had it been since she’d enjoyed the luxury. Next, clean and dry, they found the newly tailored suits waiting for them, and dressed, discarding their soiled old clothes. Ada made sure to keep the multitool, which was nearly done recharging from the station’s wireless power.

  Clean and clothed, they feasted. A buffet-style food court allowed them to each eat as they chose, and Ada found herself completely unable to exert any self-control, eating until she was nearly sick.

  “It’s too bad they don’t have carry-cases,” she mumbled, rubbing her stomach. “We could really stand to stock the ship.”

  “Oh, there’s a place for that!” Crush said.

  Joyce raised an eyebrow. “On whose dime?”

  He shrugged. “Don’t see why it can’t be Dianne’s. She gave us permission. Trust me, that woman won’t miss a few thousand credits going missing. Besides, what’s the use in calling yourself a pirate if you can’t even swindle a wealthy widow out of a few breadcrumbs?” He grinned.

  Ada returned the smile. “Crush, sometimes you are a veritable fount of wisdom.”

  By the time the afternoon was spent, they had a full charge on the ship’s engine, and a backup battery in the cargo bay; they’d completely resupplied her food and beverage dispensers; and they’d picked up another set of clothes each and stowed them in the living space. Ada felt a burgeoning sense of something she hadn’t felt since leaving her family’s hab in the outer belt.

  Comfort.

  She was musing over this when they strolled into a little tech outfitter and started perusing personal devices.

  “Oh,” she said to Joyce. “This reminds me.” She took out the multitool and handed it to her. “This is yours.”

  “Keep it.” Joyce smiled, her eyes on a display case. “I’m getting a new one!”

  “On Dianne’s dime?” Ada laughed.

  “What she doesn’t know, right?”

  They left the store with new toys—Joyce and Crush with new multi-tools, Crush with some sort of techno-enhanced squeeze-grip workout device, and Ada with something she hadn’t even known she’d wanted until then. It was an earring, but chipped with twice as much data storage space and PC power as the old retro PCs her dad had used back in the mining hab. As they loaded their haul onto the ship, Ada snuck up into the cockpit and woke Moses up.

  “Moses, I brought a present. There’s a personal tech device on my left ear. Can you link to it and upload a copy of yourself to it?”

  “I think so,” he said. “Station bandwidth should be substantial enough that it should only take a few—ah, yes.”

  The earring pinged her. “Here I am.” It was Moses, as clear and quiet and close as if she was hearing him speak into her mind. She smiled.

  “That’ll do.”

  “Shall I link up with your multitool, as well?”

  She hadn’t realized it had the capability. “Sure. You’ll have control of it, then?”

  “Only if you want me to have control. More importantly, you’ll have control of the tool, as you now have of the ship, from your earring.”

  Her smile grew wider. “Well, stick a chip in me and call me a cyborg.”

  “I wouldn’t say that, Ada.”

  “No. Just about as good, though.”

  ---

  Dinner was back at the food court. This time Ada was able to enjoy her plate more leisurely. Joyce had a glass of wine, but seemed unable to enjoy it. She was
cross with Bone Crusher as they ate, dropping little hints and digs, none of which he seemed to notice. Blithely unaware, Ada thought. Or maybe just very, very good at pretending not to understand.

  Eventually he excused himself and headed for Dianne’s. Joyce had more wine. Ada tried something chocolate for the first time, and made a mental note to try to pick some up for the ship before taking off.

  “She needs a name,” she said.

  “She has a name. Just can’t say it in polite company.” Joyce’s words were beginning to slur ever so slightly.

  Ada squinted at her. “Not the old lady, Joyce. The ship. She needs a proper name.”

  Another sip. “Why? Planning on keeping her?”

  Ada shrugged and tried to look noncommittal. “You don’t have plans for her, do you?”

  “Can’t fly her myself. Suppose I could try to sell her. Don’t know as I’d get much except as scrap, though. She really isn’t much to look at. Not every old bird is loaded.”

  Ada frowned. She hadn’t considered the monetary value. It was too good to be true, of course, but she had begun to hope the ship would just fall into her lap now, discarded by Joyce and Bone Crusher. “What if I did want her? Is there a way I could compensate you?”

  “Buy me out?” Joyce shrugged and sipped again. “Sure. Money’s money. You got any?”

  “No.”

  Shrug. Sip.

  “I could pay you in transport. You could stay on for a while, I’ll fly you anywhere you want to go!”

  Joyce sneered. “Spending more time cooped up in that chicken cage isn’t exactly my idea of how I’d like to start my new life of freedom, you know? No offense. You’re obviously smitten.”

  “None taken.” She smiled wistfully. She really was smitten with the thing. “Cupid,” she said. It felt right.

  “Who’s a what now?”

  “We’ll call her Cupid. You know, after the Greek God. Technically a boy, but that doesn’t matter. I like it… the image of youth and love and arrows. It’s so evocative, don’t you think?”