Drifters' Alliance, Book 3

by Elle Casey

  Interesting. I wonder if good old Captain Boob knew he was being listened to. Even more so, I wonder who was doing the listening.

  “Can we do a back-trace on these devices to determine who was receiving the signals?”

  “I can attempt to do this, Captain, but it is not likely to be successful, considering that I have jammed the signals as you have instructed.”

  “Can’t you just un-jam them?”

  “Yes, but typically, a person or computer monitoring the transmissions realizes their signal has been discovered from the moment it is jammed at the other end and will remove any trace of its existence from the link in response.”

  “Oh.” Another excellent decision by yours truly. The fun never ends!

  “You said we have two explosive devices.” I walk onto the flightdeck and find Jeffers there, staring out the clearpanel at the other members of the Alliance. None of the ships has moved position or aimed anything deadly in our direction. I guess I have that going for me. I take a seat in my chair and lean back, preparing myself for the next bit of bad news I expect to be delivered by my compubot.

  “Yes, Captain. One explosive device is located near the landing gear on the exterior of the hull, and the other is located on the flightdeck.”

  Jeffers turns slowly to look at me as my eyes bug out of my head. My ass is starting to twitch really bad.

  “Where is that explosive device, exactly?” I ask, my chin trembling as I await her answer.

  “It is under the captain’s chair, Captain.”

  I look down between my legs as my entire body breaks out in a cold sweat. “Oh. Shiiit.”

  Jeffers stands in a hurry. “Adelle, what and where is the trigger?”

  “The device appears to be something that would be triggered remotely. I have blocked the signal. It does not appear to pose a threat to you at this time.”

  I burst into tears. Without any warning, without any thought first, I turn into a giant baby who needs her momma.

  Jeffers holds his hands out toward me, waving them in his direction. “Come here, girl. Come here, right now.”

  I grip the arms of the seat and squeeze, trying to lever myself up. But I’m too afraid. I’ve heard of too many bombs that went off when the weight was lifted from the triggering device. It doesn’t matter that I’ve sat in this chair countless times without setting anything off, or that the bomb has to have been put here before I came onboard. I look at Jeffers and shake my head silently.

  “You’re going to be fine. Come over here. Come on, come on.”

  I shake my head harder. “I can’t.”

  “It won’t explode. You heard Adelle. Just stand up and walk over here.”

  “I’m trying,” I say in a reedy whisper. “I can’t do it!”

  The door to the flightdeck opens, and Lucinda walks through. I turn to her in a panic.

  “I was just coming up here to …” She gets one look at me and stops in mid-stride. “What the heck is wrong with you?”

  I can barely get the word out from behind my tears. “Bomb.”

  Her eyes go wide. “Did she just say bomb?” She looks over at Jeffers for confirmation.

  “It’s not a threat. I just need her to leave her chair and come over here.”

  Lucinda walks backward to the door. “It’s over there? At her place?”

  Jeffers nods.

  Lucinda does a one-eighty and runs back through the portal and down the corridor.

  I bark out a laugh in the middle of all my tears, admiring her sense of self-preservation if nothing else.

  Jeffers frowns at the empty space where Lucinda used to be before he turns his attention back to me. “Okay, that’s enough of the tears. Get up and get over here. Now. Cass … don’t make me come over there.”

  I laugh again, smiling weakly as my lips tremble. “You sound like my grandfather.”

  “Yeah, well … I had a granddaughter who you remind me of, so listen to what I say and no one will get hurt.”

  Gripping the edge of the arms of the chair, I finally find the strength and courage to stand. My legs are wobbly, but I make it over to him without blowing anything up and without vomiting. I consider that a win, even though my face is completely soggy from all the stupid crying I’ve done.

  He puts an arm over my shoulders and pulls me up next to him. We’re both staring at the chair that has the offending object under it —a bomb neither of us can see from where we’re standing— when Lucinda comes running back down the corridor and onto the flightdeck. She’s holding a big canister in her hands and breathing heavily.

  “What’s that?” I ask as she advances into the room.

  “Cryoblaster. Let’s freeze it. It can’t blow anything up if it’s frozen solid, right?”

  I look up at the ceiling, my heart soaring at the idea that Lucinda wasn’t running away … she was running to get something to save us. To save me.

  “Adelle, what do you think about freezing this bomb? Good idea or bad idea?”

  “Without knowing the exact circuitry, I could not say for certain, Captain. But some bombs are detonated by extreme shifts in temperature, so I would not advise taking that risk.”

  I shrug a shoulder at Lucinda, sorry that she couldn’t be our hero today. “Probably not worth it, but I appreciate the thought.” She came back with a solution, even though she could have been injured or worse as a result. I respect the hell out of this girl right now, and it’s going to take a lot of terrible things on her part to change that.

  She rests the canister on her thigh. “Yeah, well, I don’t want that thing hurting my plants.”

  Or not a lot. Maybe just a few.

  I walk backward, breaking contact with Jeffers, continuing until I can lean on the console near his chair. “Adelle? You mentioned a tracking device. Where can I find that?”

  “The tracking device is located in the brig.”

  A shiver moves up my spine. “Which chamber?”

  “The chamber hosting your prisoner. The shadow, Tam.”

  I drop my face into my hands and take several long breaths to try and control myself. Just when I think things can’t get worse … does that mean the Outlanders are following me? Oh, shit. Now I’m acting like they’re real too! Is this what Darksickness feels like?

  “What’s going on around here?” Lucinda asks. “Seriously. A bomb? A shadow? Did I get off the DS Anarchy and walk onto another ship without realizing it?”

  I shake my head and finally look up. “Unfortunately, no. We’re both still here, and shit is seriously messed up.” I grin. “But as it turns out, it was screwed up before I got here, so you can’t blame me for any of it.”

  “Huh. Guess you’re the clean-up crew.” The barest hint of a smile lights up her face before she turns to go. “Call me if you need me,” she says as she disappears down the corridor.

  Jeffers drapes an arm over my shoulder. “I guess this is as good a time as any for me to tell you one more thing.”

  My arms drop to my sides and my hand rests on my knife as I sigh long and loudly. “Please don’t make me stab you, Jeffers.”

  He chuckles. First a little and then a lot.

  “I’m not kidding.” I can’t even look at him. I just stare straight ahead.

  “I’m sorry,” he says, his laughter dying down. “I just couldn’t resist. You look so stressed.”

  I turn just my head to look at him. “Seriously? That’s how you work your magic, healer?”

  He shrugs. “I use whatever means I have at my disposal. Humor is great medicine at times.”

  I pull my knife out and hold it up at him. “So’s the blade. What’s your secret?”

  He holds up his hands in surrender. “I confess that I accidentally burned Macon’s fritter.”

  I grin a little as I slide my knife back home. “Good. He needs a little incentive to talk.”

  Jeffers points to my chair and the offending object hiding beneath. “What are we going to do about this?”


  “Good question. Adelle?” I’m looking at the ceiling again. I don’t know why; it’s not like Adelle is a god or anything.

  “Yes, Captain.”

  “Tell Gus to report to the flightdeck with bomb defusing equipment handy.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  “And Adelle? Make sure he doesn’t take any detours toward the brig. Alert me if he does and lock him out of access to that area of the ship until further notice.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  I stare down at my boots for long enough that I start swaying.

  “Do you want me to manage the bomb situation while you manage other things?” Jeffers asks.

  “What other things?” I look up at him.

  “Macon? Lucinda? Tam?”

  “No rest for the weary.” I stand more steadily, adjusting my flight suit as best I can.

  He shakes his head. “Unfortunately not. And we need to show up at that meeting with something to offer our friends.”

  I point out the door that Lucinda just exited. “I guess that means the biogrid is my next stop.”

  “It would be if I were captain.” He bows at me and steps back.

  I leave with zero bounce to my step. A garbage scow out of here is looking really good right now.

  Chapter Ten

  LUCINDA IS NOWHERE TO BE found when I get to the biogrid. I let myself in past the antechamber and wander the first couple rows of food items, assuming she’s going to appear any second. Tomatoes surround me along with their vines’ sharp green scent. This place is starting to feel like it’s mine, now that there’s a certain familiarity to it. I know that my next few steps will bring me to racks of lettuce and then farther on there will be peppers. I could swear the vegetables are even riper now than they were when I saw them mere hours ago. I feel pride I probably don’t deserve to have. Lucinda is the architect of this wonder, not me. But I’m going to do whatever I can to keep it going and even improve it if possible. She’ll have all the labor she needs. I just worry that if there’s a bunch of Romanii in here together, we’ll have to nail down everything on the ship we don’t want repurposed.

  I open my mouth to call out to Lucinda, but then think better of it. Now’s my chance to get a closer look at things without her glare boring holes into my head. Maybe if I get a really good bead on things, I can make my own estimations about how much help we’ll need and how I might be able to compensate those people. It’s possible we could get by with just the existing crew for now, by taking turns helping out, and then handling some of the bigger projects while we’re docked at different stations, using temporary help. Surely Lucinda’s Romanii network is present enough around the galaxy that she could call members in as needed, no matter where we end up.

  I take a left into an area I haven’t yet seen, and as I continue deeper into the grid, my nose is filled with the scents of growing things — soil, water, and vegetables, along with the occasional twang of flowers. It’s crazy to think all of this was happening right under Langlade’s nose without him having a single clue. He has to be the most inattentive captain who ever roamed the dark. I know he has a few ships to keep track of, and by the looks of this one, he probably didn’t use it much, but still. This is just plain neglect. He put way too much trust in that Tremblay person.

  The idea of Tremblay and his intersection into my life tweaks at my brain. That guy was up to a lot of things on this ship that I’d bet Langlade knew nothing about. First of all, that chicken. I don’t think the captain knew about it or the prize inside it, but Tremblay sure did. I’m going to assume he knew about this biogrid too. Hell, he probably enjoyed keeping the knowledge of its existence from Langlade. Guys like him don’t hold a lot of respect for people like Langlade — men who can’t even pilot their own ships.

  I’m looking up at the tops of the hydroponic towers and wondering just what Tremblay’s end game is when I trip on something at my feet. My world blurs as the gravity field beneath my boots pulls me to the floor, and I’m suddenly tangled in what feels like several ropes. A net! I’m caught in a net!

  My body finally stops its descent when it makes contact with something soft, but my head is not so lucky; it hits a steeloid pipe, stunning me for a few seconds. I lay there as my head spins, my swirling brain trying to make sense of what just happened and where I am.

  As I experiment with moving, I find that bits of the net that took me down are wrapped around my arms and legs. A couple of them have found my neck, too, but when I struggle even the slightest bit, they fall away. Not a very good net.

  It’s dark down here, darker than I would have expected. Did I fall into a hole? I look up and see light weaving through whatever ceiling is above, but as I pull my right foot back toward my butt, my boots bump along the uneven, grated surface of the deck. Guess I didn’t fall into a hole. I wait a few seconds, breathing in and out in an effort to calm myself. No need to panic; you just tripped into a giant pile of roots or something.

  My respirations slow and my head finally stops spinning, making it possible for me to look around calmly and without that edge of panic that was threatening to take over. There’s just enough light to pick things out, and I’m able to see that I’m under a group of grow towers whose bases start about a meter above me. Behind me and on either end of the space I’m in are full-sized grow towers with their bases on the deck, creating a three-sided niche.

  My mouth drops open as I realize that this space has been purposely cut out of the grid, and it’s being shielded by a curtain of thick, hanging roots. What is it for? Equipment storage? As I’m trying to figure out why this thing is even here, something intrudes on my consciousness, making it hard to concentrate. It’s a smell, and not a good one either. Oh, hell, what is that? Gone is the fresh scent of growing things, and in its place is the not-so-fresh scent of a person who seriously needs to take a shower.

  Is that me I’m smelling? My hands suddenly register the fact that they’re grabbing onto material, not roots or metalloid. I look down, noticing for the first time that I’m sitting on a pallet of sorts. A frame of bars interwoven with plant fibers creates a bunk ten centimeters off the deck, and several bits of wool or cotton material make up the mattress. This can’t be for equipment storage. This is more like … a bed.

  Through the root curtain I can see most of the walkway where I was just standing and admiring the view of my very own biogrid. My legs are sticking partway out of the roots and would trip anyone walking by. There are several root strands out there too, solving the mystery of how I fell and busted my ass. I’m going to have to tell Lucinda she needs to keep the roots trimmed back. I can’t afford to get hurt right now.

  I grit my teeth as I try to figure out what Lucinda’s game is. This can’t be where she sleeps. She’s too prim and proper to sleep in a stink like this. Plus, I’d smell it on her if she were bunking here. This has to be where some of her workers were staying when they were here. I’m surprised, though, that she hasn’t bothered to clean the place up. Macon would have found this spot eventually, helping her out the way he was assigned to.

  Voices come faintly at first and then grow louder, cutting off my inner sleuthing. I feel guilty, as though I’ve been sneaking around where I shouldn’t have been, so I yank my feet toward me and curl them under my legs. The beating of my heart echoes in my ears.

  The first voice I hear is Lucinda’s. The second, I don’t recognize.

  Chapter Eleven

  “NO, I’M NOT GOING TO do that. I can’t.” Lucinda sounds annoyed and worried.

  A male voice responds. “Okay.”

  “Don’t say ‘okay’. I know what you mean when you do that. You’re saying okay but you mean it’s not okay.”

  “I said okay. Okay means okay.”

  “No, okay means you disapprove of my decision and think I should do something differently.”

  “If you say so.”

  Her boots stop just outside the curtain of roots that hides me. “I don’t say so, Papa, you say so
!”

  My throat closes up in excitement. Papa? What the … Is this her father? Has he been hiding here all along?! I knew it! Holy shit, Lucinda is in so much trouble. I almost giggle with the idea of how much leverage this gives me. With a girl like her, leverage is a very, very good thing. This is the first bit of positive news I’ve had all day. I’m going to put aside the fact that this guy’s basically a stowaway on my ship.

  They stand in front of me, toe to toe, wearing almost the same size shoe, although his footwear is more soft-soled than hers, like animal hides that have been barely treated. Weird. I guess that explains how he’s been sneaking around in here without anyone hearing him. Adelle must be cut off from the biogrid or something, because when I did roll call before, she didn’t mention anyone but the crew I already knew about. She should have told me about this guy being in here. Hell, she should have told me about all the frigging bombs on my ship too. Dammit. I’m calling her a she again. Adelle and I are going to have a little conversation when I’m done busting Lucinda for hiding her father in here.

  “What I said was that it might be better to reveal our plans for the biogrid to your new captain before she makes decisions that will create problems for those plans.”

  “You think she should be a part of this.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Well, she will be a part of it if I tell her what you want me to.”

  “Not necessarily.”

  It’s taking everything I have in me to keep from jumping out and knocking their heads together. They have plans for my biogrid? They think they’re going to make the decisions about what I’m going to do with it? They must be under the influence of one of their herbs or darksick or something.

  “Tell me how she could know everything and not be involved.” Lucinda’s toe starts tapping impatiently.

  “I overheard her conversation with you earlier. She seems to understand our people. Perhaps if you just told her …”

  “Told her what? That this biogrid is ours? That it’s the prototype for biogrids we plan for eight other ships around the galaxy? That she has to allow our people on here to manage it at every station where we stop and compensate them for that work? Ha! She doesn’t have two credits to rub together. How is she going to compensate anyone?”