Vanguard Rising: A Space Opera Adventure

by A. C. Hadfield

  Bella checked her wrist terminal. “He’s right. We won’t make it. We’ll miss our rendezvous at the elevator.”

  Irena stood and begged them. “Please, I’m not asking for much. Maybe you could just radio them to let them know what happened.”

  Wilbur sighed. “Look, I sympathize with your situation. But an abbot going rogue? That just doesn’t happen. Not since the uprising and the reprogramming. I’m not suggesting you haven’t had a rough time, but it seems far-fetched.”

  Irena couldn’t believe they didn’t trust her. Why would she have anything to hide from thieves? She looked incredulously at Bella and her crew. “If you don’t believe me, then why don’t you fly this ship of yours a little north of here and see for yourself? The earthers ripped it limb from limb. You’ll find the parts and you’ll see what I mean.”

  The large woman dressed in army fatigues introduced herself as Greta and then looked at Wilbur and then to Bella. She raised an eyebrow. “I’m up for it.” Irena noticed that she wore Solar Federation Marine stripes on her jacket’s shoulder. This meant she had served, and that meant she had fought the separatists on Ceres. A brutal, but brief conflict.

  Bella checked her terminal again. “How far did you travel?”

  “Not far. Probably only a few miles.”

  Bella stroked her plaited hair as she considered Irena’s proposal. Uncertainty twisted her full lips, and suspicion shaded her eyes.

  Irena could see her only opportunity closing by the second. “Okay, listen. I’ve got a proposal for you. What if I was to tell you that there were two q-bit cores and two rovers you could salvage?”

  Wilbur pushed the glasses up on his nose and looked to Greta with an open expression.

  “I think if you’re bullshitting, we’ll drop you out from just below atmosphere,” Greta said.

  “Surely your facility would want to recover the rovers and the q-bit cores for themselves?” Bella posited. “We’re not in the business of making a target of ourselves unnecessarily.”

  “I’m desperate. I don’t care if you take the rover or the cores. In fact, I don’t even want to return to the facility. Without Dr. Osho alive, and with the rest of the team dead, I can’t face it there anymore. I know there will be an inquest and they will blame me as I was the only survivor.”

  “What are you proposing?” Bella said, crossing her arms.

  “You take me to Atlas Station and send word to the facility about what happened. I won’t mention that the q-bit cores and the rovers were stolen by contraband salvagers.”

  Greta looked at Bella with no lack of earnestness. “We could just get the gear ourselves and kill her.”

  “If you do, then I won’t tell you how to uninstall the q-bit cores. If you handle them the way you’ve been handling your other contraband here, you’ll destroy them. They’re delicate, sensitive instruments.”

  Wilbur smiled, his little eyes crinkling behind his glasses. “The woman has a point.”

  “The name’s Irena.”

  “Feisty, too.”

  “Fine, we’ll do it,” Bella said. “No more screwing around. We don’t have the time. Irena, you come with me to the cockpit. Guide us in and show us where the station is. If what you say is true, we’ll take you to Atlas Station and send word to your facility. But trust me, if you try to screw us around, I will let Greta do what she wants with you.”

  “You can trust me. I just want to get the hell off this forsaken planet. The authorities need to know about the abbot.”

  Bella nodded and led Irena to the cockpit.

  They took a few minutes to find the ruined body of the rogue abbot. The gun had gone missing; the earthers most likely had taken it.

  The scene clearly satisfied the contraband crew. They smiled and nodded amongst themselves, excited about the bounty. As they journeyed to the station, Irena considered if she was a traitor for wanting to return to Atlas Station instead of the project facility. But she couldn’t face working there any longer, not after knowing Dr. Osho and the rest of the team were gone. And she couldn’t do anything about the rogue abbot from the facility. She needed to speak with the silicon runners and have it investigated. Having grown up as a daughter to a Messenger representative in her mother and a House representative in her father, she was all too aware of how red tape could obfuscate the truth.

  “There it is,” Wilbur said from behind Bella, pointing through the cockpit. The lights of the freighter lit up the station, showing blood splatter around the building and the rovers.

  “Holy shit. She was telling the truth,” Greta said.

  “We’re agreed, then? You take me to Atlas and send a report of this to the facility?” Irena asked.

  “We’ll see,” Bella said. “Okay, you two. Gear up and see if she’s telling the truth about the cores.”

  Wilbur demanded directions to where he would find the cores. Not wanting to go in there herself, Irena told him, adding, “Please bring the bodies out so I can hand them over to the authorities on Atlas.”

  Bella nodded to him. He turned and left the cockpit with the ex-Marine.

  They took less than ten minutes to bring the bodies and the cores into the hold, using a series of freeze-boxes to hold the former. As Bella watched her team secure the translucent, cold coffins, Irena thought about how she would explain the whole situation. She knew the silicon runners would be interested—despite being on Earth, this still fell under the purview of their jurisdiction, being an abbot issue—but she wasn’t clear if she had broken any laws. She’d see when she arrived home on Atlas. All she cared about was getting off the planet.

  Wilbur poked his head through the rear door of the cockpit. “Okay, partner, we have everything, and we’re ready to go.”

  Bella checked her terminal, then punched coordinates into the freighter’s control panel. She turned to Irena and said, “You better strap in; it’s a bitch getting up to the space elevator. We have to join it halfway up to avoid the security drones patrolling the area.” With that, the freighter launched forward in an upward trajectory.

  Irena closed her eyes and breathed a deep sigh of relief. She was leaving Earth behind. However, she could do nothing about the heavy stone of grief lying in her guts.

  8

  Bella eased the thrusters on the Mazzari Enterprises freighter, officially designated as the Mule, and brought the ship down to less than a quarter g of thrust. Over the course of the next ten minutes, she followed the docking lights about the station and piloted into bay twenty-seven.

  She engaged the autopilot and let the computer systems dock the ship. Her new guest, Irena, and crew members Wilbur and Greta were in their respective bunks. The latter no doubt preparing black-market ads for the latest haul of contraband. Bella had no idea who she’d sell the q-bit cores to, but knew it wouldn’t take long to find a buyer for such a hot commodity. It wasn’t every day something so rare came on the market.

  The speaker on the control panel crackled with the whiny voice of the traffic controller. “Registered freighter of Mazzari Enterprises, your docking has been approved. Import Inspector Gareth Trippier will join you shortly to confirm the manifest of your delivery.”

  “Thank you, controller, have a great day,” Bella said. She turned to face Irena, who had come through and sat down in the copilot seat. The young woman was paler than she had been before, and Bella wondered if she had picked up an infection from her wound. Although Wilbur had helped with the first aid kit and ensured that there was nothing wrong, no one on board was a medical professional—something Bella had wanted to address, but trying to find one on their low budget had so far ended in failure. “How are you doing, Irena?”

  Irena yawned and stretched her muscles with the speed of a sloth. “I hadn’t realized leaving Earth and traveling to Atlas Station would be so tiring.”

  “Gravity is a bitch, eh? Though it could have been worse if we didn’t have an elevator to use. Thanks to the abbots, we have at least a couple still working.”
>
  A shadow passed over Irena’s face. She looked away.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t think. Shouldn’t have mentioned the abbots. Shit, there I go again.”

  Irena readjusted the bandage on her hand. “It’s fine. I’ll get over it. I just need sleep and rest.”

  The way Irena trembled reminded Bella of when she’d first met Greta. She’d served with the military service for a long tour of duty on Ceres Station. During that tour of duty, Greta had suffered an unspoken terrible trauma.

  Given what Irena had gone through, what she had seen, it wouldn’t surprise Bella if the poor girl was going through the same thing. She wanted to tell Irena Greta’s experience and how she had eventually learned to cope with it, but she had little time.

  From the canopy, she saw Trippier approaching.

  Just looking at him turned her stomach. He moved like a lizard and had the twitchy eyes to match. Hell knows how this creature had wormed his way into such an official position. Still, such a creature dabbled in bribery, and they both knew it.

  Trippier knocked on the cockpit door.

  Irena looked up at Bella with alarm. “If he finds the q-bit cores, we’re in serious trouble.”

  Wilbur poked his head through the door separating the cockpit from the main section of the hull. He glanced at Irena and then Bella. “I’ve done my best to hide the q-bits. But anything more than a cursory glance, and Trippier will find them. What’s the plan?”

  Another knock. A communication light flashed on the control panel. Trippier was hailing them. Bella had to think fast. “Do we still have that collection of media hack codes?”

  Wilbur pushed the glasses up on his pointy nose and squinted his eyes as he thought. “Yeah, I think so. It’s for old stuff, though. Hundreds of years old now and on magnetic media.”

  “That’s perfect,” Bella said. “Tripps is a freak for the ancient and the weird.”

  Irena looked at her with straight-lipped concern.

  Bella gave her a quick smile. “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine. But you can’t be seen with us; it’ll be harder to explain an extra crew member than it will be some unusual contraband. Wilbur, hide her in my private bunk, behind the panel in the wardrobe. And bring the codes.”

  “Of course, Captain, anything I can do to help you, seeing as your last slave died of exhaustion.”

  Bella pressed her lips together in annoyance. “Not this again. I know we’re equal partners, but I still am the captain of the ship.”

  Wilbur held his hands up in a placating gesture. “Hey, I get it. I’m just a stickler for manners.”

  Bella rolled her eyes and sighed. She glanced at Irena, shook her head, and then glanced back to Wilbur. With a sickly-sweet voice, she said, “Please, dearest Wilbur, would you do me the greatest of favors and for once follow my goddamned order? Please, thank you.”

  “That’s all you had to say.”

  Wilbur gestured for Irena to follow him.

  With Irena out of the way, Bella hit the receiver button and opened a communication channel with Trippier.

  “Ms. Mazzari, I’m getting cold standing out here. What’s the delay?”

  “Sorry, Inspector, just a technical glitch. Give me two seconds.”

  After a few more moments, Wilbur entered the cockpit, carrying an old-fashioned external magnetic disk enclosure. He handed it over to Bella. “Here you go.”

  “Okay, let’s get rid of this amphibian and get on with the rest of our business.”

  “What about the bodies?”

  “We’ll explain we’re bringing them back on behalf of the ERP.”

  Wilbur didn’t look convinced, but if they played it right, Trippier wouldn’t even get as far as the cargo area. And even if he did, he wasn’t the kind of guy to give a shit about a few bodies. The illicit cores though…

  Bella hit a button on the control panel, raising the light in the small space. Wilbur huddled in the corner of the room and did his best to look inconspicuous, which, to be fair, was one of his specialties.

  Bella opened the door and shivered as a blast of cold air wafted in from Atlas Station’s dock. “Inspector Trippier, please, come aboard. We’re in a rush, so if we can do this quickly, we’d appreciate it.”

  The inspector stared up at her, his expression inscrutable on the surface, but the glint in his eyes told Bella that he was eager for ill-gotten remuneration.

  She stood aside and allowed him to climb up.

  He closed the door behind him and stepped close to her, his hands behind his back and his body leaning forward with eagerness. He smelled of three-day-old sweat and cheap protein paste. “Been to Earth, have you?

  “Certainly not, Inspector. We wouldn’t dream of breaking the law. We’ve been on a supply run to the Belt and back.”

  Trippier smiled, nodded, accepting the lie.

  “Terrible business out there,” Wilbur said, ad-libbing. “Pirates and rogues are swarming the place. Wouldn’t surprise me if the military get involved.”

  “I’m sure it was a tough job for you guys. Still, one has to do their duty. So if you escort me to your hold, I can confirm your manifest and be on my way.”

  Bella placed her hand on the smaller man’s shoulder.

  He glanced down at it and then up at her. “I hope you will not prevent me from doing my job, Ms. Mazzari.”

  With her other hand, Bella brought up the hard disk of codes and waved it in front of Trippier’s face. “I wouldn’t dream of it. But if one were interested in an alternative way of completing one’s duties, I could reciprocate.”

  Trippier grinned and laughed, turning his attention from Bella to Wilbur and back again.

  The bastard was enjoying his little power trip.

  He overexaggerated thinking about the offer, placing one hand on his hips and a finger on his chin. “Hmm, let me think… What’s on it?”

  “Codes for rare adult entertainment, pre-Migration media, software,” Wilbur said. “Classic stuff, hard-to-find media that wasn’t uploaded to the QCA.”

  The way Trippier was staring at Bella, the cockpit began to close in around her. He licked his lips and looked her up and down. “I’m not sure that will quite do it anymore.”

  “That is all you are getting,” Bella said, scowling at him and resisting the urge to drive her knee into his testicles. “It’s been good enough before.”

  Trippier shrugged. “That’s inflation for you. And I take my job seriously, Ms. Mazzari. If there is no other business, then I suggest I get on with checking the hold. I am a busy man.”

  Bella glanced at Wilbur.

  Her partner glared back blankly, seemingly out of ideas.

  This was an unusual situation for them. They had struck a similar deal with Trippier for at least the last twelve shipments. She did not understand why it wasn’t worth it for him now. Then, as she looked out onto the dock via the open door, she counted at least thirty other small cargo-class freighters and realized she had competition for Trippier’s blind eye.

  The inspector shifted his body and made to move towards the open door into the hold section of the ship.

  Stopping him with one arm, Bella shifted around in front of him. “Just a moment. I need to secure the airlock first. We have delicate food products in there. I can’t let them be exposed.”

  With a nod, Bella indicated for Wilbur to watch Trippier while she ducked through the door and into the tight passageway. She nearly crashed into Irena, who was standing outside the door, listening in.

  “He wants to see the cargo, doesn’t he?” Irena said in hushed tones.

  “Yeah, another firm must have bought his loyalty. We’re screwed.”

  Greta stepped into the hallway. In her right hand with casual nonchalance she grasped her Marine-issue pistol. “Bring him into the hold. I’ll deal with him. It’ll be quick.”

  Irena shook her head. “No, please. I think I can get us out of this. Give me a minute. I have a friend in the House of Messengers who owes me a favor.�
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  Through the door, Wilbur’s voice could be heard cracking jokes and stalling for time.

  “Do it,” Bella said.

  Despite being captain of the ship, she doubted she could prevent Greta from taking matters into her own hands, especially as they were carrying hot cargo. She knew it was a risk to bring it back with her, but she hadn’t considered Trippier would turn on them.

  While Irena used her terminal to communicate with her friend, the narrow corridor echoed from the pounding on the door. Trippier’s voice called out, “I am done with waiting. Open before I call security and have the ship impounded.”

  Bella called back, “Almost there, I’m just pressurizing the refrigeration units. Give me two minutes.”

  The pounding on the door stopped, and Wilbur continued to do his best to keep Trippier occupied. Irena gesticulated as she talked in frantic whispers with her friend. Bella had to resist the temptation to grab her wrist and beg her friend to help. Instead, she tapped Irena on the shoulder and indicated to hurry. A minute more of tense discussion passed.

  Greta chambered a round.

  Irena hung up her call and turned to face Bella. “It’s done. A friend is messaging him now.”

  “What did you do?” Greta asked, looking disappointed.

  “I, erm… my friend, well, a friend of my mother’s, owed me a favor for not revealing a transgression. She will pull rank and give Trippier a government stipend bonus.”

  “Okay,” Bella said. “You both stay here and don’t do anything stupid.”

  Bella opened the door and entered the cockpit, forcing Trippier to retreat.

  He opened his mouth as though he were about to speak, then a notification beep came from the terminal on his left wrist. He looked at the holographic display. His forehead crinkled, presumably with confusion as to why a member of the House of Messengers was messaging him.

  “One moment, Ms. Mazzari. It appears I need to take this.” He backed away to the far corner of the cockpit and turned his back on them to take the call.

  Wilbur shared a quizzical expression with Bella, and she whispered to him to just wait and see. While they waited, Bella’s heart rate increased, and she felt her skin prickle with heat and the beginnings of mild panic that reminded her of her days singing opera on stage. Only this experience didn’t give her the thrill of an adrenaline boost. Rather, it gave her a slow drip of dread. A long minute ticked by. Bella counted every second, her feet tapping against the ship’s oil-stained metal floor.