by Britt Ringel
“Maybe not in the CCZ,” Truesworth agreed, “but let’s just say I won’t be joining you inside the Republic.”
“Definitely not the Republic,” Lochlain said quickly. “Maybe the central systems or the disputed zone. Perhaps even the LMA.”
Truesworth’s eyes bulged at the mention of the last corporate sector.
Naslund looked almost overjoyed. “Dad would never find me in any of those places.”
“That’s so far away,” Lingenfelter whispered to herself.
“It’s not that far,” Truesworth commented.
“You’ve been all the way to the LMA?” she asked skeptically.
“As a privateer?” Brooke guessed.
A sobering look took hold of Truesworth. “Yeah…”
Lochlain had seen similar looks many times in his life and knew when not to press. Instead, he walked to the center of the bridge and said, “Wherever we end up, it’ll be far enough away that our pasts can’t find us. I may not be able to offer you immediate riches but I can promise you that you’ll be the captain of your own life.” He looked to each of his new crew and swore, “No government, no corporation and no father will ever dictate your course to you. You’ll share in the decision process here just as you’ll share the risks and, eventually, you’ll share in the fortune Zanshin brings us.”
Naslund beamed widely. “This is exactly what I signed up for! Even the gunfight was exciting… well, after we won.”
Lingenfelter began to feel a lifetime of servitude lifting off her shoulders. “I’m in,” she said with a brilliant smile. “This is better than what’s waiting for me in Svea.”
Truesworth simply spun back to face his sensor panel. “Hey, you had me at ‘high card.’”
Lochlain clapped his hands together. “Let’s go to Vulsia.”
Ten minutes later, Zanshin received clearance to amend her sailplan and head directly for the Vulsia tunnel point. After coming about, she would need over five hours to reach her destination. Once the freighter settled onto her new course, Lochlain insisted that Brooke retire to their quarters to rest. He guided her gently down the steps and tucked her into the bed. During their slow walk down the stairs, Brooke remained steadfast about being in Engineering when it was time to dive the ship. Lochlain wisely saved his verbal bullets for different battles.
After seeing Brooke to bed, Lochlain climbed the stairs but stopped on the main deck. He looked down the corridor and groaned. The forward spine was still a horror show. With a sigh of resignation, he plodded toward the three bodies littering the narrow hall.
He could not help but stare at the gruesome spectacle. Horribly curled fingers turned their hands into claws. Each dead man’s eyes were wide open. Lochlain hesitated. He had never touched a dead body before and now he was going to have to drag three of them nearly twenty meters. He grabbed the first by the feet and began to tug at the dead weight. A noise of disgust escaped his lips as the man’s right arm rotated grotesquely and the submachine gun still slung at the shoulder became wedged underneath. The scrapping sound of the metal on the deck marked every meter of Lochlain’s progress.
Twenty minutes later, the bodies rested on the lift inside the forward hold. Despite his reluctance to touch them further, Lochlain searched each one before placing them in a neat row, their legs together and their hands over their chests. He closed the hold’s portal and locked out the compartment. In a fit of inspiration, he then removed the hold’s atmosphere and turned off the environmental controls.
The grim task completed, Lochlain looked over what he had collected from the men. The submachine guns seemed like fine weapons. Between the magazines in the guns and the extras taken from the corpses, Zanshin had gained a respectable armory. Of course, Lochlain knew that possession of firearms by a non-Federation citizen was a violation of Solarian law. He would need to find an obscure hiding place in case his ship was inspected. In the meantime, he returned to his quarters and deposited the collection at the bottom of his closet. Brooke was snoring softly from the bed and he smiled at the sleeping woman. She had been his lioness less than an hour ago, fending off three heavily armed professionals in spite of her injuries. He shivered at the memory of the remorseful look in her eyes when she was prepared for a suicidal dash to the spine’s portal controls. Even facing certain death, her primary concern had not been her own life but his. A wave of guilt washed over him as he remembered his uncertainty about her loyalties. “I’m sorry, Mercer,” he whispered from the doorway. “I’ll never doubt you again.”
After another moment’s reflection, he stepped away from the bedroom’s portal and left the quarters. He still had dozens of shell casings to collect and a medical bay to clean.
* * *
“Everything’s in the green, for now.” Naslund’s voice was equal parts confidence and doubt as it carried over the bridge’s speakers.
“Just keep monitoring things,” Truesworth advised him over the comm channel. “You’re doing great. Remember, you don’t have to fix any problem, just recognize it.”
“Yes, sir!” Naslund replied heartily. “And thanks for checking on me!”
Truesworth smiled as he closed the channel. The kid’s unflagging enthusiasm reminded him of nearly every ensign he had ever encountered… himself included.
“Do I sound that… eager?” Lingenfelter asked from the helm. “I guess Casper and I are making a bigger deal of this than it really is. It’s just that I’ve spent so many years of my life training to pilot a starship and I’ve dreamed of doing it for even longer.” A slim shoulder dipped. “I guess it’s silly.”
“It’s not silly, Elease. It’s incredible and if working on a starship, even a freighter, doesn’t get your blood pumping then you probably need to get checked out by the auto-doc.”
She swiveled in her chair to appraise him. “But you and the captain are so cool about it all. Like it’s normal.” She glanced between the sensor console and the captain’s panel that Truesworth sat behind now. “You just switch stations like it’s no big deal.”
“It’s just experience. We all have a past, Elease.” Truesworth’s smile faded. “The truth is, the closer you get to the captain’s seat, the less useful you become.”
Lingenfelter saw a torrent of emotion ripple behind his eyes before he continued.
“I worked so hard to command a ship when I was in The Iron Brigade but now I understand that, more than anything, I was just running away from sensors.” He swallowed. “The longer I sat in a captain’s chair, the more I realized my heart was still in another.” His voice choked slightly. “I should never have left.”
Lingenfelter stared at the man. The hidden, deeper meaning behind his story was lost on her but her heart went out to him regardless. He was undeniably handsome and carried an air of self-possession that somehow made him even more appealing. She smiled warmly at him and said, “Well, I’m very glad you’ll be in that chair, next to me.” She gestured to the empty station.
Before Truesworth could respond, the bridge portal opened with a hydraulic hiss to reveal Lochlain. He stood and offered, “Your bridge, Captain. Engineering reports green and we’re five-by-five up here.”
“Thanks, Jack. How’s the tunnel point look?”
Truesworth answered without a glance back at the console. “A couple ‘vettes orbiting there. I assume that’s what you meant.”
Lochlain sat and exhaled wearily. “It’s been a hell of a day. A ship inspection would really cap it off.”
Truesworth grimaced. “Well, by changing course and sailing a non-standard route to the tunnel point, we’re kind of begging to be singled out.”
Lochlain’s head dropped to his chest. “Yeah, I know. It’s just that when Casper’s dad starts searching for him, I’d rather the filed trail lead to Crucis. Zanshin’s crew roster is out-of-date too.”
“That’ll be the first thing he’ll check,” the sensorman said in understanding.
“Well,” Lingenfelter offered as Truesworth settled at the console n
ext to hers, “at least there’s always something to worry about.”
Lochlain chuckled. “It’s not normally this bad, Elease. We’re just sailing with limited resources and no safety net right now. Once we’re established, it’ll be better, but this is a large part of a smuggler’s life, dealing with what you’ve got. Probably a lot like growing up in your commorancy.”
“You were an orphan?” Truesworth asked.
She gave him a twisted grin. “We all have a past, Jack.”
They sailed the next four hours in peace. When Zanshin approached to within 10lm of the Vulsia tunnel point, Lochlain left the bridge to wake Brooke. She took a sonic shower and, with Lochlain’s help, began the long, torturous journey to Engineering. Her shoulder had stiffened considerably during her rest yet she was still an hour away from her next allotment of pain tablets.
Naslund practically sprinted up the stairs to Brooke’s side as they entered the catwalk. He provided an overly detailed report of the ship’s systems while he assisted her down the stairwell to the main console. Lochlain continued to hover but eventually left after her repeated assurance the pain was manageable and that she would call the bridge for an escort back to their quarters after the dive. With a quick peck on Brooke’s cheek, he trotted down the aft spine and returned to the bridge, only to find potential disaster on the wall screen.
Lochlain inspected the navigation plot with a practitioner’s eye. There was no sense in denying it. “Yup,” he agreed. “It’s definitely heading for us.” He brought up the specifications for the inbound system defense ship.
Her beacon identified her as Fast Ship-422, SFS Stampede. Standata showed that she was a Tori-class corvette in service for thirty-seven years. Equipped with a meager trio of dual general-purpose lasers, she was nonetheless more than a match for a mere freighter. Her intercept course made it abundantly clear that Zanshin should expect visitors.
“Are they really going to board us and check our licenses and cargo?” Lingenfelter asked nervously. “Shortest smuggling career ever.”
Lochlain’s mind raced and his thoughts turned to the bodies in his forward hold and the submachine guns in his closet. Ironically, he knew that Isett’s sealed, certified cargo would stand up to inspection unless the authorities went for a spacewalk and physically cracked open the container. “There are a lot of different types of inspections,” Lochlain soothed. “The question is, how do we encourage the one we want?” He let the query hang in the air as he played through different scenarios in his head. After a full minute of deliberation, he stated, “Here’s what we do...”
Chapter 25
Lieutenant Robert Herston slumped languidly in Stampede’s captain’s chair. His first officer stood next to him, reading aloud.
“Registered eight years ago in the Federation from Tengying Universal. Zero past violations and still under the same ownership,” he summarized. “The owner is one Mercer Brooke, an Appiation citizen.” The first officer looked up from his datapad. “Not too surprising considering they dove in from Svea a few days ago.”
Herston examined the optical. CSV Zanshin was 6lm out and offered him a three-quarters view of her bow. He counted six cargo containers spread evenly between her fore and aft. “Where’d they pick up their cargo?”
“Here.”
“Captain, we have a message from that freighter,” Stampede’s sensor officer announced.
“Play it,” Herston ordered.
A smiling man with hair to his shoulders gazed back at him from the wall screen. “Greetings, SFS Stampede, this is Zanshin sailing to the Vulsia tunnel point.” The man’s smile widened. “We can’t help but notice your intended track toward us. We will heave to at five light-minutes and prepare to receive your shuttle. Please note that your party may either dock with our bow airlock or use our hangar but for the latter we will have to launch our own shuttle due to hangar size restrictions. I am forwarding you our licensing information and captain’s affidavit along with our cargo manifests.” The man tapped at his console before finishing, “We look forward to your boarding party and they are invited to tea after they have completed their inspection. Zanshin out.”
“They’re certainly agreeable,” the first officer noted. “Kind of a strange Svean accent...”
“Let’s see their formwork,” Herston stated.
The two men huddled with their Operations section head. The sublieutenant brought up the information on her console and made check marks with her fingers as she pointed at various parts of the screen. “Registration looks good. Lochlain’s captain’s license is valid. There’s his affidavit on his crew’s licenses.”
“What’s the crew complement for that ship?” Herston queried.
“Four minimum,” she answered quickly. “Three deck officers and an engineer.”
“Very good,” the first officer complimented. “Did you notice anything unusual about the engineer’s name?”
The junior officer wavered a moment. “Uh… Oh! The engineer owns the ship!” She twisted to look at her mentor. “Is that a red flag?”
“No,” Herston answered in his place, “but what other inference can you make with that knowledge, Nora?”
The Operations officer looked up in thought. “It’s a private freighter so maybe family owned and run?” she speculated.
Herston nodded. “And what are the odds that a family works hard enough to buy their own cargo ship, operates it for eight years without a single violation and then suddenly decides to turn criminal?”
The young woman smirked. “Pretty low.” She swiped at her screen to move to the cargo manifests. “Five consignment containers right from the orbital. Those containers get inspected when they enter the station’s storage yard.” She skipped to the bottom of the list. “The last container is sealed certified. The seal check passes; it hasn’t been tampered with.”
“Captain,” Stampede’s sensor officer interrupted the group’s discussion. “Zanshin is heaving to, sir. Down to point-zero-eight-C and decelerating. They’re coming to relative rest.”
Herston looked at the Operations officer with a critical eye and quizzed her a final time. “Is this ship worth the time and expense it will take to inspect it or are the Federation’s resources better spent elsewhere?”
* * *
“If they choose the airlock, Elease, I want you to make it as hard for them to dock as you can without looking like you’re trying to cause trouble,” Lochlain reminded her. “We absolutely want them to use our hangar.”
Lingenfelter nodded. “I can nudge the thrusters a bit to ‘help’ them align and throw off their trajectory but keep in mind that if they’re persistent enough, I’m going to have to let them soft dock eventually.”
Lochlain smiled cruelly. “If it comes to that, I have a few cargo master tricks up my sleeve that can frustrate them too.”
A descending warble sounded on Truesworth’s panel. “Here we go,” he said as he used his controls with one hand and crossed his fingers on the other.
“CSV Zanshin, this is Stampede. Your licensing and manifests are valid. Contact Vulsia Approach to resume your course and speed. Good day, Stampede out.”
Smiles erupted on the bridge until Lochlain asked, “Now who wants to volunteer to move those bodies and guns out of the shuttle?”
* * *
Lochlain stood behind Brooke at the gaming table in Zanshin’s entertainment lounge. She was slowly rotating her left arm, testing its mobility. Over the last sixty hours, the stiffness in her shoulder had peaked and was beginning to subside. She had even insisted she no longer needed an overprotective escort for trips to Engineering. Per the auto-doc, she was scheduled shortly to begin light exercise to strengthen the healing muscle in her shoulder. The plasti-skin over the gash on her leg had been fully absorbed and the wound itself was little more than an angry, red trough of new skin on her calf.
It was 13:30 and Zanshin would be diving out from tunnel space in a little over seven hours. Brooke had skipped most o
f her morning shift, performing only the routine examinations of the freighter’s systems, to spend time with Lochlain. He had ordered all hands to be at their stations when they initiated the dive that would see them into Vulsia later tonight, but for now he wanted them to relax. Rather than nap, Lochlain and Brooke played in the entertainment lounge.
“Ready?” she asked with a smile. On the first day in tunnel space, the couple had spent a relaxing hour in front of the holo-game, searching for lucrative future trade routes and cargo for Shinshin to take on after its humanitarian run. The virtual ship was in tunnel space headed for the doomed planet. Lochlain had abandoned his old Tarandi trade plan entirely and the pair had collaborated to test out the routes inside the CCZ. Brooke brought the game screen to life while saying, “I’m still hoping for some kind of reward for completing this side mission.” She unpaused the game and the freighter entered normal space inside the Brevic Republic.
The Harmleikur star system in the game mirrored its real-life counterpart with one notable exception. The second planet from the M2IV star was marginally capable of supporting life in the holo-game’s universe. That life, however, hung precariously as sensor readings from Shinshin showed an enormous disturbance in the planet’s magnetosphere and the cold, dense portion of the atmosphere below it, the plasmasphere. Rather than working in conjunction to protect the planet, the magnetosphere appeared to be siphoning the plasmasphere out into space.
“Well there’s your problem,” Lochlain said sarcastically. “Looks like we got here just in time.”
“Yeah, that seems like more than a problem,” Brooke agreed as she stared at the upper atmosphere of the digital planet. For as old as the game was, the view of the planet was spectacular. “It looks like it’s just getting blasted away by the solar winds.” The screen flickered with an update. “We’re receiving the same distress call,” she said as she skipped the message. Two commands later, the system plot opened on the screen. Only four civilian ships shared the system with Shinshin. All of them had made obvious trips to Harmleikur and were currently on their way out-system, traveling toward the Adrastea tunnel point that would keep them in Republic space.
