Dreaming of Atmosphere

by Jim C. Wilson

  “Like a little girl, it was.”

  “Shut up or I'll punch you.”

  “You mean pistol whip? That was a guy at least twice as big as you, back there, you know?”

  “I think he screamed louder than you did, actually.”

  “If he's alive still, I bet he'll tell Jenner it was me that did it.”

  “Probably. I think one of his teeth is stuck in the barrel of my hold out. Should I keep it to prove it was me?”

  “Ha, we'll more than likely need to shoot with it again before the day is out.”

  “Out of charge. That's the problem with these small guns. They go flat real fast.”

  “No problem, here.” I tossed her one of my spare batteries, and popped mine out and reloaded.

  “I thought you'd have been out for sure, the amount of wild shots you made!”

  “Uh, uh. I meant to hit the bar. And the floor. And the wall behind the goons. And that table.”

  “Yeah, I wasn't a fan of the décor either.” She reloaded and we began to take stock of our surroundings.

  “Well, looks like it goes down, no openings that I can see.” She said.

  “Down it is then.”

  5.

  The drain continued for another hundred metres or so before we found a grate covering an opening that dropped down into a long tunnel. I lifted the grate, lowered Max down and then dropped down after her. My shoulder was a little sore, where I’d caught a round in the firefight at the Lounge. Max saw me rubbing my shoulder and wincing.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, jacket took most of the heat, just a bit tender.”

  She gave me one of her ‘looks’.

  “I’m fine. Really. You’re not the lightest woman in the galaxy, you know?”

  That earned me a kick in the shins, but she smiled regardless. We started to look around. The tunnel was made from some carbon composite, the kind used in massive starship and space station construction for making large sections of plumbing or other fluid transfer systems. A sludgy, pungent channel flowed through the centre of the tunnel, the fluid dark and lumpy in places. This was clearly a sewer. Max scrapped algae off some signage, revealing a directional arrow and some words.

  “Water treatment. Should be able to get top side from there. Let’s go.”

  She started at a brisk pace, and I was struggling to keep up with her. I kept having to steady myself, or risk slipping on the grime encrusted, narrow walkway beside the river of doom. I was a bit larger that Max, and she had plenty of room to walk. We scrambled and slithered our way like eels down a pipe towards the water treatment compartment for at least a couple of hours. Our Interface Overlays were out of range of any networks, so we didn’t have any communications with the rest of the station to warn the rest of the crew. I could see Maxine was worried, I could tell by her pace that she wanted to get out of here as fast as we could. I slipped a couple of times, falling on my arse and getting myself a healthy coating of filth on my clothes.

  “Do you know how many species have pooped in this water?” I said after my latest fall.

  “A few hundred, at least. You make sure you bathe before you sit down in my bridge again.”

  “Yeah, thanks. I think I’ll just toss these clothes out of the airlock.”

  “Well, looks like we’re here.”

  Maxine was right, up ahead was a service hatch and a sluice gate. We could hear the steady thrum of machinery. Luckily, the hatch was unlocked, and we climbed through to the other side. Hundreds of pipes fed into this compartment, which was huge. There were dozens of rusted and dirty tanks resting in a quagmire of the filth from our tunnel, and several others like it interspersed around the cylindrical compartment. They all fed their loads into the plant, in waterfalls of chunky sludge and dirty water. Giant machines were churning the sewage down below. We were standing on a circular iron walkway that circumnavigated the entire compartment, and I could see a long rusty ladder a few metres away that took us up to another platform fifty metres above us. All through the centre of the compartment were pipes and tanks, strung together like modules on a cargo freighter. The occasional inspection plate allowed us to see the contents of the pipes and tanks was steadily flowing upwards.

  “Are they filtering this gunk?” I asked, as we made the next platform and found another ladder, climbing higher still.

  “Yeah, eventually it will be crystal clear.”

  “And then?”

  “What do you think? They pump it back into the station.”

  “And do what with it?”

  “What do you normally do with water?”

  I stopped climbing, horrified.

  “This is the station’s water supply?” I felt sick.

  “It’s perfectly fine, most self-contained habitats use a similar process. It does vary slightly, but the principle is the same. Water reclamation, it’s called. Nature has been doing it for billions of years.”

  Now I knew why the water here tasted like shit. It was shit. Intellectually I knew Max was right, but my recent re-hydration attempt at the Crystal Lounge…well it left a bad taste in my mouth. Literally. I’m no germaphobe, but this was more than I could stomach.

  Eventually we made it to the top platform, found a maintenance compartment and an exit on the other side of that. As we made to leave the water treatment plant from the Abyss, our Interface Overlays reconnected to the station network. Maxine quickly started pinging the crew. She couldn’t get through to them.

  We hurried through the evening crowd that was moving through the streets above, stepping on toes and barging people aside. I think the fact that we stank like sewage actually worked in our favour as anyone who turned to have a go at us took one whiff and recoiled. Max flagged down a cab and we jumped in.

  “Berth 232, Terrace Depot,” she barked at the AI.

  “Please fasten your harnesses. Enjoy the sights of the Corus Cluster spinal corridor and surrounds…” began the robotic voice

  “Shut up and drive, cab. And hurry!”

  The cab sped away onto the main access corridor.

  “What do you think this means?” asked Max, concern weighing heavily on her features.

  “That Jenner has had our crew rounded up and either shot or locked away somewhere.” I said calmly, looking out the window at the station speeding by.

  “I’m going to kill the little bastard.”

  “Let’s just get back to the Dreaming, see if we can pull up some data on them, maybe they got a message through to the ship before they were taken out.”

  “I’m going to cut his hands off and slap him to death with them.”

  “Max…”

  “I’m going to cut him open and feed him his own guts.”

  “Max! We need to focus here. We need to…”

  “I am focused, damn it!”

  “On staying alive! On getting out of here without ending up as galab bait! If the crew is alive, we need to find them and get them to the Dreaming!”

  “I know that!” We were screaming red faced at each other. A few seconds of staring and we both calmed down and I began scanning local news. It wasn’t long before I found a mention of the Crystal Lounge shoot out.

  “You look good on the news, by the way. For an old lady.”

  Maxine laughed a little and smiled at me.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. You’re doing fine.”

  “How are you holding up? Want to talk about the Lounge?”

  I knew she meant when I froze up at the beginning. Or that I missed Jenner sneak up on us. I wasn’t in the mood for that kind of conversation just now, I had my mind on other things. I figured that there was no way all the crew went down without a fight of their own, and if our little scuffle warranted a news mention, maybe they got some airtime as well. I told Max my theory. We both started scanning the news.

  About a minute later, Max gave a little chuckle.

  “Crege, that crazy bird.” She flicked me the article she’d
found. It showed a short film of a chaotic rumble in one of the Terrace Depot dockside bars, featuring our very own pilot. Apparently, as they tried to grab him he’d drawn his lurzak blade and fought back. A lurzak is a traditional Garz’a weapon, dating back thousands of years. They’d built a deadly martial art around its use, which steadily incorporated more modern techniques and styles. The modern lurzak contains a capacitive charge that sends a shocking burst of electricity into whomever it connects. The Garz’a fighting style favours quick strikes and early initiative. This plays into the Garz’a habit of acting before thinking, and has made them one of the most respected fighting beings in the galaxy. A properly trained Garz’a warrior is fast, nimble and deadly in close range, and most Garz’a learn at least a few years of training in the art.

  By all accounts, Crege had given a good accounting of himself and eyewitnesses had mentioned that he’d held off his attackers for a good ten minutes before a stun grenade had dropped him to his knees. No less than seven thugs had piled on top of him, and he was hastily dragged into a waiting air vehicle.

  Strange, I thought personal vehicles were banned inside the station? I said as much to Max. She nodded.

  “Jenner’s got some pull, all right. Notice that there were no police or security forces moving to intervene either?”

  “At least we know he’s still alive, or was about an hour ago.”

  “We’re pulling up to Terrace Depot now.”

  The cab pulled to a stop by a platform that served as a loading bay for tourists, and we stepped off after paying our fee. Max stiffened beside me, eyes wide and catching my attention. She held her hand to her ear, and I knew she was receiving a call on her interface.

  “Fel! Are you ok? Yes, he’s here with me. Is anyone hurt? They what? We’re about five minutes away. Okay, it’s going to be all right, you hear me? You tell the others that for me. Promise!”

  “What’s going on?” I asked

  “Jenner’s got everyone at the Dreaming. Everyone’s ok, he says, besides a beating laid out on Crege. Apparently, they’ve been taking some equipment aboard the ship. About twenty guys, he said. Plus Jenner, Isaac and some woman.”

  “How do you want to play this?”

  “He’s got us by the balls. I’m not giving up my ship. We’ll see what he wants, he could have killed them all or at least hurt them badly but he didn’t. That could mean we still got some room here.”

  “I don’t like this, Max. Too many unknowns.”

  “Fel says Jenner told him to call me, to tell me to come down or he starts executing the crew.”

  We’d reached the entrance to berth 232, and slowed down our brisk pace. We could see down the retractable platform where the Dreaming sat, her gangway still open. Men were walking up and down the ramp, taking tools and boxes of equipment away. I could see the crew lined up below the ship, between the landing struts and the starboard emission vent. Half a dozen armed thugs guarded them with energy rifles.

  Jenner stood a few metres away chatting with Isaac and a woman. She was wearing tight, black pants and a dark red blouse tucked into a wide leather belt that sported a custom holster rig and an honest to god ballistic pistol. She wore it on her hip as if she knew how to use it, her hand never straying too far from it. She stood with her hips canted to the side, in an almost seductive way, a remote of some kind in her hand with her other resting on her waist. She had short, red tipped hair and –oof!

  “Quit perving,” chided Max, punching me in the side, “put your game face on!”

  “Right! I wasn’t, I mean, okay let’s do this.”

  We marched down the platform towards Jenner and company, and no sooner had we stepped into sight then most of the thugs dropped what they were carrying and trained their rifles in our direction. I noticed that the six that were guarding our crew were well trained enough not to drop their guard and they remained standing watch over people. Jenner gestured to the guards and they lowered their aim, but didn’t relax completely. One of the closest goons to Jenner said something to him and Jenner shook his head. The goon sneered and it was then that I noticed his bruised and swollen features. It was the guy Max had beaten with her gun.

  “I knew I should have kept that tooth.” She said out of the corner of her mouth.

  “Ms Cooper! Glad you could join our little soiree.”

  “What are you doing to my ship?” she demanded.

  “Adding a few modifications. Please. Your weapons, if you don’t mind?”

  “I mind.” I offered, taking a step forward. This earned me a dozen rifles pointed at my face.

  “I insist. We wouldn’t want any of my guards to accidentally shoot one of your friends in the face. I told them you would be handing them over to us without any more unpleasant violence.”

  “It’s ok, Seth, do what he says.”

  I belatedly disarmed myself and held my PX-2 out for Jenner. I noticed Max didn’t offer up her gun, tucked as it was…somewhere on her person. It was then that I noticed the woman with Jenner walking around behind us, and I turned my head to keep her in my line of sight. She was smiling a predatory grin at me. Max was doing her best to ignore her. The woman stepped up close to Max and one hand snaked around her waist and roved up under her grimy vest and shirt. Max stiffened, but kept a straight face, and the women pulled her hand out from under Max’s shirt with the hold out blaster in it. She walked back around, passing behind me and running a hand across my butt. She’s going to have to wash her hands now, I thought. The woman walked back to Jenner and took my gun from him.

  “Okay, you have us. You have my crew, and you have my ship. Now what?” Maxine demanded, fire in her eyes.

  “What I originally offered. You take a courier job for me into the Gossamer System and deliver it to Ambrose Station. Only now, I see that I need to motivate you properly. I’ve taken the liberty to install several crippling explosive charges about your ship. Not enough to destroy it, but enough to gut it so that it will be nothing but an engineless hulk. You go out into the deep dark ocean of stars and do my job. You meander about, take too long, and the charges go off. You tamper with the charges, they go off.

  “I’m sending my agent, Ms Artemis Derris, along with you to act in my interests. If she deems you unworthy of the task, she’ll remotely activate the charges. If they go off for any reason, be it through failing to meet any of my demands or by Artemis’ hand, I’ll be notified, I’ll send a heavy transport full of mercenaries to reclaim my package and Ms Derris, and then we’ll scuttle your ship along with all of you.

  “Any questions?”

  “Why us?” asked Max, shaking with barely contained rage.

  “I’ve invested a lot of time looking for just the right crew, the right ship for the job. I don’t have time to keep looking, but I’d rather just have you all killed right now if you refuse me again and take my chances with a mercenary crew.”

  “You won’t get away with this, Jenner.”

  “Spare me the empty threats, just tell me you’ll take the job and you’re free to start right away.”

  Max glared at Jenner for a full minute. I could see her eyes wander to her crew, lined up against the hull of the Dreaming. They were all standing and watching with interest. She didn’t need to look at me, I just reached out and touched her wrist.

  “Okay. Give me the package.”

  “It’s already on board. Ms Derris will show you where it is, ensure it’s not molested with by any curious crew.”

  At that, he clicked his heels and walked past us, the goon with the missing teeth a step behind and Isaac following, his head down. Soon, all the goons left and we were alone with our crew and our new passenger. We all gathered around and tried our best to intimidate the stranger among us, showing her we were not happy with her around. She gave us a bright smile and sauntered over to me, and stepped up close. I felt her hands reach around me and holster my gun. She then pulled the front of my pants open and dropped Maxine’s hold out into my trousers. I pulled back
with a gasp, and reached in to retrieve it.

  “Keep it.” Declared Max as she turned and walked up the gangway in a dark mood.

  Artemis kept smiling at us as she turned and followed her. She hadn’t said a single word the entire time. The rest of the crew and I rushed up the gangway afterwards and started stowing our gear and prepping for take-off.

  6.

  True to her word, Maxine kicked me out of the command module when I tried to sit down. She shooed me out and told me to get changed, get clean and go see Zoe about my shoulder. Fel and Crege were there already, flipping switches and going through the start-up checklist like professionals. Crege actually didn’t look too bad. A new cut on his beak, a black eye and a cut above his other.

  I ran back out of the bridge down the central passage of the upper deck, heading for my berthing compartment. As First Mate, I rated my own cabin, small though it was. The Captain, of course, had her own. Fel and Crege shared a cabin one deck below, in the main living spaces, as did Eric and Mal, and Hergo and Denno. Zoe had the last cabin to herself, since it wouldn’t be proper to bunk her with one of the guys. I guess she’ll be sharing it now. I reached my cabin and threw open the hatch.

  “Or not...” I muttered to myself. Artemis was in my cabin, sitting on my bunk. Two military style duffle bags sat on the floor before her. “Err…can I help you?”

  “I’m sorry, was this your cabin?” Her voice was smooth, like liquid mercury. It almost sounded like she was purring. She casually reached down and began to undo the laces on her boots, the kind that ran halfway up her calves.

  “Was? Is. This is my cabin, and I’m in dire need of a shower and a change of clothes.”

  “Don’t let me stop you.” That amused, predatory grin again.

  “Huh?” I can be stupid sometimes, especially where women are concern.

  “You have two bunks here. Plenty of room. I don’t snore.”

  “You don’t snore?” I sounded like I was having trouble hearing, “You want to bunk with me?”

  “Is there a problem?”

  “Uh, wouldn’t you rather bunk with a female?”