by Elle Casey
“I think you should shut the thing down entirely and give it back to whomever gave it to you,” Jeffers says.
“It was Beltz,” Baebong says.
I want to whack him for selling the guy out, but Jeffers nods like he already guessed who was responsible.
Baebong’s finger hovers over the terminate button, but I stop him with a hand on his shoulder. “No. We need this.”
“You need this like you need another hole in your head,” Jeffers says, taking a step back. “For all we know this could have a tracer on it.”
I frown. “No, it can’t. We’re too far away for any tracer at the station to locate us. Besides, it’s just a simulator. We’re not walking around the real stations as holograms. That’s ridiculous.”
“Yes, but a tracer in this sector of the galaxy could locate us if this card is sending out a signal.”
“Beltz would have already been fried if that were the case.”
“Don’t be so sure about that. Maybe he never tried to access the OSG sector.”
I laugh. “Are we talking about the same Beltz?”
He pauses as my reasoning sinks in. “Be that as it may, you don’t know what’s happening here.” Jeffers shakes his head. “I don’t like it.”
“Well, I’m not crazy about the thing having my father’s all-access code somehow programmed into it, but I’m not going to throw this gift back in Beltz’s face.” If the guy feels guilty for ripping some of my hair out, so be it. I’m not going to argue with that emotion if it gets me stuff like this. “I want the entire crew in here, now.” I pray I’m not making a mistake.
I go back to my chair and bring up the all-comm.
“What’re you thinking?” Baebong asks.
“I’m thinking we need to do a little group training.” I gesture at the menu. “If this thing has the entire station blueprint on it, I want everyone to familiarize themselves with it. Couldn’t hurt to know where things are … in case we need to get somewhere in a hurry.”
“And if it doesn’t have the blueprint?” Jeffers challenges.
I shrug. “Then we waste a little time figuring that out. I’m okay with the risk.”
Jeffers says nothing, but he takes his seat and turns it around so that he’s facing the wall.
Baebong rolls his eyes as I make my connection live. “Attention all crewmembers … this is your captain. Please report to the flightdeck for some critical training.”
Chapter Thirty
AS SOON AS ALL MY crewmembers are assembled, I stand and face them. “Hello, everyone, and thanks for coming. I know you’re all very busy and we’re scheduled to leave out of here in less than five hours, but this is important.”
“I’m not busy,” Macon says.
“You would be if you came to the grid like you’re supposed to,” Lucinda says, glaring at him.
“They need me,” he says, pointing at Gus and Tam. “I have to be available at a moment’s notice.”
The twins look at each other and roll their eyes.
“Today we received a gift from Captain Beltz,” I say.
Gus rubs his hands together, his eyes lighting up. “Hellooooo, bi-directional thrust meter gauging tool …”
I shake my head and his face falls. “Sorry, but no. It’s not that. It’s a sim card for the Centurion Station.”
Lucinda sighs really loudly. “Seriously?” She makes as if to turn around and leave the flightdeck.
I stop her by raising my voice. “Seriously.” I turn my head slightly. “Baebong? Light it up.” I’m happy to see that I have Lucinda’s attention again. “Show them the dockmaster’s hub.”
There’s a flickering on the wall I’m facing that’s a reflection of the simulation being run behind me. Tam’s expression is the first indication I have that someone is catching on to what’s really going on. He says nothing, but his attention is laser-focused on what he’s seeing before him.
“That’s cool,” Gus says, still sounding very light-hearted about the whole thing. “I’ve never seen a hub up close before. Just on the magnoscreens when they’re bragging about all the upgrades they’re making to the stations.”
“Show them the menu,” I say to Baebong.
Lights flicker again. “Take a look,” I say to the twins. “See anything on there that looks interesting?”
“Hell, yeah,” Tam says. He points. “Look.” He’s talking to his brother.
“What?” Gus asks, frowning at the words, squinting to bring them better into focus. “What do you see?”
“Look closer, idiot.” He jabs a finger at the list of features available to choose from.
Gus catches on. “Hey. They have the bars up there. That’s weird.” He scoffs. “What’s this … the bartender’s training module?” He looks around, but no one else is amused.
I turn around to see how complete the detail is, and find that it’s just what I suspected it would be. It wouldn’t make sense to have the inside of the OSG’s area and not the bars too. “Show us the Grande Old Saloon,” I say, selecting the bar where I played givit and won the ship.
Everyone stops fidgeting around, even Gus. The lights flicker as the program switches layouts. I watch the show with them, my heart going faster again. Now I’m more interested in seeing what the program has than their reactions to it. Besides, I already know what they’re going to say. Minds will be blown.
It jolts me a little to see the actual bar in such great detail, only this time with no one standing around drinking and yelling in it. It’s eerie, as though the place closed down for the night —something it never does— and everyone has gone home to bed.
“What’s that on the right?” Macon asks, pointing to a list of words floating near the far side of the bar.
“Personnel.” Baebong is reading aloud from the screen, scrolling down through the options presented. He chooses one and a face pops up. I recognize him as the man who was dealing cards that night.
A voice comes out over the simulator. “Hawknoy Jee. Givit dealer. Origin: Gartan, Biodome Three. Cited for minor infractions to Codes Sixty-Five, Seven-Twenty-One, and Eight-Seventy-Seven.” My mind races as the simulator continues a rundown of his background. “Known associates include …”
I should know those codes. What are they …? The answers pop up in my head, courtesy of Macon who starts reciting them aloud.
He sounds impressed. “Dang. That’s assault, lying under oath to an officer of the OSG, and …”
“Racketeering,” I add. I’m about to say something else, but then the simulator’s words filter back into my consciousness.
“… and Zed Tremblay.”
“What was that?” I ask, stepping closer to Baebong.
He pauses the simulator and looks up at me. “That was a list of his known associates. Tremblay’s on the list. Isn’t that the guy that used to have my room?”
I nod, trying to figure out if that means something really big or nothing at all.
Chapter Thirty-One
AS SOON AS WE’VE RECOVERED from our wormhole-travel-induced nausea, I guide the DS Anarchy to the Centurion 4 Station. After having worked the last five hours on simulating this maneuver, I’m almost to the point of being confident doing it. Almost.
The dockmaster’s frequency glows green on my forward clearpanel. All I have to do is look at it and nod, and Baebong is calling it up for me. I have to work really hard not to smile at that; we’re becoming a seriously well-oiled machine here on this flightdeck. Yeah, buddy.
I lift my head and speak like I imagine a returning warrior would, because that’s who I feel like right now. So much has happened since we were here last. “Dockmaster, this is the DS Anarchy requesting approach and entrance bay.”
A few seconds go by and then the response comes in.
“Anarchy, this is the Dockmaster. Back so soon?”
I guess they don’t get as much excitement around here as I thought. “Yes, well, I just can’t get enough of the givit games your tables are r
unning at Centurion 4.”
That earns me a chuckle and a nod from Baebong. Jeffers’s back is as stiff as a board, so it’s impossible for me to tell if he’s cool with me joking around or not. Knowing him, he isn’t. This whole recon mission goes against his plans to be the man in linen preaching peace and harmony, hiding from the people who did him wrong. Oh well, sucks to be you, Old Man.
“Gotcha. Okay, looks like Bay E, Bay Echo is open for you.”
Baebong talks under his breath. “Another cargo bay. Slice.”
I wish I had something to throw at the back of his head. I mute my transmissions so the dockmaster won’t hear me. “It’s not a slice to send me to a big bay. Maybe it’s the only one they have available!” I refuse to look over at the several other smaller bays to my right and left to check and see if I’m correct on that or not. Before Baebong can enlighten me, I un-mute and transmit. “Roger that, Dockmaster. Bay Echo it is.”
“Oh, look,” Baebong says with fake cheer to his tone, “there are six … no, wait … seven empty bays just to our left, perfect size for a DS to use. Hmmm … wonder why he didn’t give us one of those cargo bays instead …” He snorts at his own insult.
The wicked part of me decides it’s time to have a little fun at Baebong’s expense. “Hey, Baebong, would you go get me a glass of water?”
He spins around and glares at me. “Come again?”
I rub my throat and fake a hoarse voice. “Wormhole. Screwed up my throat.”
He frowns for a few seconds before levering himself up out of his chair, slowly walking over to the door. “This better not be a trick.”
I grin and wink at him right before my fingers start to fly all over the arrays at my hands.
The ship surges forward, causing Baebong to lean just slightly back to maintain equilibrium. The gravitational stabilizers keep him from feeling the full thrust of my maneuvers, but I’m not finished with him yet.
“Cass, don’t you dare!” he yells with his arms out. He’s taking his first step to the doorway, probably planning to hold on to it for dear life.
“Flipping the coin!” I yell as I add thrusters that will turn the ship over and over, advancing into the bay with the bottom of my ship slowly rolling around in perfect end-over-end formation, imitating the travel of a coin launched into the air by a chancer’s thumb.
Baebong’s feet never leave the grates below him, but that doesn’t stop him from getting turned upside down inside his head as he watches the scenery change in the clearpanels. Rather than try to make sense of it, he drops to the ground and rests his head in his hands, covering his eyes.
“What’s the matter, Bae-bee? Getting a little woozy, maybe?”
“Impressive, Anarchy,” the Dockmaster says. He doesn’t sound impressed, though.
I slow the rate of spin.
“Is your gyro system broken, by any chance?” the dockmaster asks.
“No, Sir,” I say, trying to sound casual, when inside, I want to let out a goatherder’s whoop like no one’s ever heard before. I just mastered that bitch of an approach! Whoo hah!
“We generally like to ask that you make a fore-approach.” He hesitates before continuing “… to avoid damage to the station. Coin-flipping tends to break things around here.”
“Oh. Sorry about that, Sir. I just assumed since you gave me so much room to maneuver in that you were looking for a little something special …” My spin slows to a stop just as the ship arrives in the fore-approach he wanted, and I freeze it with various tiny adjustments to several thrusters at exactly ninety degrees, horizon level. Hell yeah, I did.
The voice on the other end of the connection is more relaxed now. I swear I can hear a smile in it. “Roger that, Anarchy. Sorry about the misunderstanding.”
I want to jump out of my chair to do a happy dance and a you-underestimated-me-and-I-showed-you-what’s-up dance, but there are too many witnesses. I tap my fingers in rhythm on the arms of my chair instead, leaving the happy dancing for inside my head.
Baebong stands and walks up the stairs, stopping at my chair. “You are so going to pay for that.”
I glance over at Jeffers to see that he has his head down on the array in front of him. He was probably looking out the clearpanels when I started flipping the coin that is my ship too, becoming disoriented with the changing perspective right along with Baebong. I feel just a tiny bit guilty about that; after all, he wasn’t the one yanking my chain. But still … Baebong needed a little slap down.
“Yeah, well, next time you feel like insulting my flying skills, you might want to watch me on the sim first. Check yo-self before you wreck yo-self and all that.”
“Whatever.” He slogs over to his chair and falls into it. “Get your own water, cowboy.”
A voice comes out onto the flightdeck from somewhere on the ship. “Hello up there, Lady in the big chair, this is your friendly neighborhood engineering genius.” He pauses. “That would be Gus, in case you haven’t been paying attention. Nice coin-flip, by the way. So, I’m, uh, wondering if you wouldn’t mind, before you take off on your recon mission, could you stop by to take a look at our list of parts needed for engineering …?”
“Who says we’re here for parts?” I ask as I guide the ship through the busy airspace inside the station over to an empty spot I see at the dock.
As I wait for Gus’s sputtering to stop, I quickly shift back over to the Dockmaster’s frequency and transmit. “Dockmaster, requesting dock access. Is spot Lima 1-8 available?” I’m hoping he’ll say it’s free because it’s close enough to the Grande Old Saloon that I won’t have to run too far if things go south on us, and it’s also just three spots down from the DS Osiris, which is already docked and being worked on from what I can see. Apparently, Alana doesn’t like scratches on her hull; several of them are being buffed out by maintenance drones. The rest of her ship is flawless, just like her.
“You still have some credits at Hackmore’s,” Gus finally says. “Be a shame to let ‘em expire.”
“They don’t expire. But I’ll come take a look at your list, don’t worry.”
“Non-expiring credits? Damn. Who’d you … uh … smile at … to get those?”
Baebong hunches over at his array, probably laughing silently at Gus’s almost faux pas. No, Gus, I don’t blow dirty old men for hardware credits, thank you very much.
“None of your business. Just get your list ready and your blood. We’re signing those blood contracts before I leave the ship.”
“Ohhh kayyyy,” he says before signing off.
Jeffers finally lifts his head. “Will you expect this of all of us before we leave?”
I lift my chin. “Yes. Is that a problem?”
He shakes his head. “No, actually, it’s a relief. It’s about time we made this official.”
He and I both stand together and walk to the door of the flightdeck. He waves his hand over the keypad to open it. “You ready for this?”
I nod. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” It probably shouldn’t, but the whole idea of running recon as part of a team against a guy like Tremblay has me totally hyped and ready to take on the world. I wish I knew whether that was a good sign or a bad one.
“After you,” Jeffers says, gesturing out into the corridor.
Before I walk out, I look up at the flightdeck. “Adelle?”
“Yes, Captain.”
“Get the blood contract ready on the system and the keypads ready to accept signatures.” I already entered the parameters discussed with the crew, so now all we need is a little fingerprick from everyone. Mine is already there.
“It is ready for input, Captain.”
I nod and walk out the door in front of Jeffers.
Chapter Thirty-Two
THE SHIP IS LOCKED DOWN with my engineers, the green goddess, and her sneaky papa left behind. Blood contracts are finally in place for everyone but the old man who I’m still not supposed to know is living in my biogrid and Macon, who still can’t bring himsel
f to tell me everything he knows about my situation. I’m giving him until the end of this mission to figure out where we stand. If he can’t come clean and sign the contract, he can’t be a part of this crew when we leave, it’s as simple as that. I can’t carry someone around I can’t trust. I wish that didn’t make me so sad to know it’s Macon at the heart of the matter.
I’ve given the twins permission to fulfill about half the items on their parts list, but they have to take delivery instead of going to get them in person. I need to be able to make a fast getaway in the event things get messy, and having them roaming the corridors of the station looking for love in all the wrong places is the surest way to slow me down that I can think of.
I’m starting to understand why Langlade locked them inside the engine room when he docked at stations. The only thing that mollified Gus after he was ordered to stay onboard was my statement that he was in charge of ship security. His chest puffed out and he nodded, accepting his new responsibility, while his brother rolled his eyes and disappeared into the stack of computer shelves behind them. I’m hoping Gus will stay proud for as long as it takes for me to get back to the ship.
The Grande Old Saloon is as shitty as it was the last time I was here. Not that I was expecting anything different, since I’ve only been gone for a couple weeks. The same crowd of no-good, lying cheats, the same stench, and the same bartender greet our entry. The skinny, lanky man looks up from delivering a drink to another patron and stares at me, his eyes narrowing and then popping open wider. Surprised to see me, or surprised to see me alive? It’s hard to imagine the givit dealer was in on a plan with Tremblay to steal a DS and then overthrow its new captain without the bartender knowing. Don’t those guys have ears everywhere? I eye him with suspicion.
I really wish I had that station’s sim card linked up to my personal comm unit on my wrist so I could look into this guy’s history, but getting caught with that thing on me would be way too risky. It’s bad enough that it’s on our ship. It doesn’t change the fact, though, that knowing who this guy really is and who he hangs out with would be really handy. Unfortunately, I was too busy practicing my docking maneuvers to dig into the personnel files of this place. I’m wondering now if I’m going to regret it.
