Stars & Empire: 10 Galactic Tales

by Jay Allan

  Over the next few hours Twingo ate heartily in the ship’s galley while Jason explained what he had unwittingly gotten himself into. Nursing a mug of chroot, he told of how he had first spotted the damaged ship on Earth and had boarded it, trapping himself in the cargo hold. Twingo seemed to take the tale at face value after some convincing and offered some insight on why Deetz had likely kept him on board and hadn’t returned him immediately, or simply cycled him out an airlock.

  “You see,” he was saying, “synths aren’t widely recognized as free-thinking beings in a lot of the galaxy, or at least this corner of it. They were created much for the same reason any machine would be: to help out their creators with menial labor or monotonous tasks. In the usual fashion, their creations got away from them as they became smarter with each generation until, finally, they demanded independence. The species that created them is a soft-hearted bunch, so with zero bloodshed they declared their synthetic offspring to be free, sentient beings. This was accepted by some governments, but by and large they aren’t recognized as anything other than machines. There are many different flavors of synths; your Deetz appears to be a standard administrator variety. He’s slick-talking and good at organizing and structuring deals … a lot of high rollers like to keep them around to crunch numbers and read through contracts.

  “What I find most curious, if you don’t mind my saying, is how he was on this ship alone when you stumbled upon it.”

  “He never really did say,” Jason said between sips. “I assumed he had escaped some battle after seeing how badly damaged this ship was when I found it. The computer wasn’t able to tell me anything other than the original crew never re-boarded.”

  “Hmm,” Twingo murmured noncommittally. “Well, keep this little nugget of wisdom in mind while you’re dealing with him. They may be machines, but they very much have free will … and desires. Whatever his motivations may be in using you to spearhead his dealings may be nothing more underhanded than needing an organic being to sign invoices and contracts, or he could be setting you up for a big fall. No way to know for sure, but some of the most notorious and ruthless serial criminals have been synthetics. I sometimes think this is born out of the frustration of never being able to attain a status more than that of a piece of equipment.” Jason sat silently as he contemplated what it was Deetz may have in store for him, if anything. For all he knew, the damn thing would leave him stranded once he outlived his usefulness. He unconsciously adjusted the translator earpiece. Twingo noticed this and cocked his head.

  “You know … I’m assuming you’ll be getting a cut out of whatever deal you guys are cooking up. You should really get at least a translator implant. Personally, I’d go for the works: computer interface, optical implants, everything.”

  “I’m not sure how comfortable I’d be with that,” Jason said as he squirmed at the idea of having alien devices surgically implanted in his body.

  “Oh, it’s painless. Well, mostly. It’s all nanotech stuff; the little buggers are injected into your blood stream and they’ll travel to where they need to be and assemble into the proper configuration and begin interfacing with your nervous system. Takes ‘em about a day to get everything all sorted out.” Jason marveled at how Twingo’s “speech” through the translator had been constantly evolving as they conversed. While stilted and basic at first, abstract concepts and even Earth colloquialisms were now coming through the little device in real-time. Twingo finished off his last bite before asking, “So where are we headed anyway?”

  “Pinnacle Station, whatever that is.”

  “Pinnacle is a major commerce hub,” Twingo said after a low whistle. “But it’s fairly far up the spiral arm, although in a ship like this, that’s not much of an issue. It makes sense though; if you want to offload some illicit cargo discreetly, that’s the place to do it.”

  “So you’re convinced we’re hauling something illegal.” It wasn’t a question.

  “You’re not? I mean, come on … I’m as naive as the next person but not a whole lot of what’s happened makes sense for a simple durable goods delivery.” Twingo stood and slowly twisted to stretch his core out, wincing again at the pain of his injuries. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to head to bed for a bit and heal up some more. The medical nanites the ship injected me with are itching like crazy. I assume you’re in the Captain’s stateroom so I’ll just grab the Chief Engineer’s bunk. Have the ship wake me up if anything exciting happens.” The last part was said over his shoulder as he was already heading through the hatchway that led to the engineering spaces.

  After Twingo left, Jason sat in the galley for a while longer, alone with his thoughts. The thrill and excitement of being on a spaceship had dulled a bit and he began to contemplate the kind of trouble he would be in if they were indeed carrying illegal cargo and happened to get caught. What would happen to him? A human alone in the galaxy with no legal representation and certainly no consulate to contact … he could be in some seriously deep shit. With a heavy sigh he stood and slid the mug down the counter closer to where he knew the cleaning robot would emerge after he left. Whatever it was, he was in it up to his neck. He hoped he would be able to make it through as an innocent bystander and not an accomplice. He knew that blasting the ground car on Breaker’s World made him anything but innocent, but he was hoping that wouldn’t be an issue later on. Deciding Twingo had the right idea, he walked off towards his quarters for some sleep after telling the computer to wake him up in four hours.

  CHAPTER 10

  The DL7 emerged into real-space with nothing but a brief flash of dissipating slip energy to mark its arrival. Her crew, numbering three for the moment, looked over the displays to ensure they were where they were supposed to be. Deetz, still piloting the ship with Jason riding shotgun, guided them onto a course that would allow them to intercept Pinnacle Station as it orbited the system’s primary star, its path trailing behind the fourth planet. The gunship had the power to take a direct route to the station, but blending in with the commercial traffic was the name of the game so a leisurely intercept arc down the gravity well was in order.

  “We’ve got about a two-hour flight,” Twingo said from the station on the bridge that allowed him to monitor engineering remotely. Apparently he had decided he would make himself useful during his unintended flight and had been going around tweaking and adjusting systems on the ship until they were humming along at peak efficiency.

  “Plenty of time for me to make contact with our clients,” Deetz said as he rose. Turning to Jason he said, “The computer will fly us in pretty close before the station’s docking system takes over. I’ll be back well before that though.” Without waiting for a response, he walked quickly off the bridge. Moments later Jason heard the door to the communications room close, something that didn’t instill him with a lot of confidence. Why close the door? Ignoring the meaningful look from Twingo, he fiddled with the displays at his station to learn as much as he could about this system.

  It was a little over an hour later when Deetz walked back onto the bridge, his face giving no indication of how the contact call had gone. After a while, a bright speck in front of them began to grow and move against the field of stars and resolve into a defined shape. “Damn,” was all Jason could say as he got his first good look at Pinnacle Station.

  “Damn is right,” Twingo said quietly as he too stared out the canopy.

  “First time to the big city, boys?” Deetz’s joke fell flat as nobody even looked his way. He glared at them both and went back to flying the ship.

  Pinnacle Station had started its life as a military resupply depot for deep-space combat ships. When the wars ended and the governments went broke, the station went onto the open market after being decommissioned. Throughout the next few decades it exchanged hands a half-dozen times and each private owner or corporation built onto the existing station and upgraded systems until it was nearly unrecognizable from its original configuration. With each new addition, the station’s o
rbit had to be kicked out to stabilize it until it had been settled into a trailing heliocentric orbit behind the system’s fourth planet. The gravitational pull of the planet helped anchor the station and allowed its mass to fluctuate as enormous ships docked with, and left, Pinnacle Station without the need to constantly burn maneuvering thrusters.

  The lower third of the station was obviously much, much older than the rest and could only have been the original sections that were still intact. As one moved their gaze up, things became newer and shinier until it finally reached the crystal-enclosed biosphere that inhabited the top deck. When they were close enough, Jason could see that hundreds of docking arms reached out from the station and just as many ships were moored to them. No two ships looked alike and he was awed at the variety, each representing an entirely different methodology and engineering outlook, each representing a different species of origin.

  The perspective outside shifted as the ship swung down towards the lower half of the station. Jason looked over and noticed that Deetz wasn’t controlling the ship. When the synth saw his gaze, he said, “The station operators don’t trust pilots to bring their ships in. An automated system syncs up to our helm control and flies us in to the appropriate place; it cut down on a lot of mishaps when it was brought online. Think of it like the harbor pilot in your maritime industry.” Jason only had a vague idea what a harbor pilot was, but he’d be damned if he admitted the alien machine knew more about his home planet than he did.

  “Ah, of course,” he said.

  “Looks like we’re heading to the lower hangar decks,” Twingo said as he observed their flight path on his display.

  “Correct you are. This ship is able to dock to a standard hatch with an expandable cofferdam, but our client has his own hangar and enjoys his privacy,” Deetz replied without looking over. While he hadn’t necessarily been openly rude to the engineer, it was still obvious he wasn’t happy about him being there at all. For most of the flight to Pinnacle Station, Deetz had isolated himself on the bridge or in the com room in an apparent effort to avoid his organic crewmates.

  The DL7 slid gracefully towards a section about a third of the way up the hull of the station. Jason could now make out individual openings that he correctly assumed were the hangar bays. There was a slight thump felt throughout the ship which prompted him to look at Twingo. “We can’t make our final approach with the gravity drive. It screws with station ops. The emitters are shut down and we’re riding in on thrusters and inertia,” the engineer answered.

  Jason assumed he had either misunderstood, or missed entirely, how the ship pushed itself through real-space since he thought only the slip-drive utilized gravity manipulation. He’d have to remember to ask Twingo about that when they got a moment alone. He looked at the lowermost sections of Pinnacle and eyed the aged, pitted metal of the original hull skeptically. Not much for maintenance down here. It also looked as if it was covered in a thick layer of grime that reminded him of blacktop tar. Soon, though, all he could make out was the lit opening they were heading into as Deetz cycled the landing gear down in preparation for a landing inside the hangar.

  The ship passed effortlessly through the forcefield that held the atmosphere of the hangar in place and immediately started hissing and popping in the warm air. After touching down, it spun on its Y-axis like a top, the rear wheels of the main gear able to roll sideways as well as forwards and backwards. It continued its rotation until its nose was pointed back out towards space and the rear cargo ramp was facing inward.

  “Let’s go,” Deetz said simply as he placed all essential systems into a standby mode.

  “Should I be armed?” Jason asked as he followed the synth off the bridge.

  “No!” Deetz and Twingo said simultaneously, the effect odd through the translator in his ear. Deetz continued with a sidelong glance at Jason, “I wouldn’t suggest it, and not just because station security would frown upon it.” This seemed to confirm, at least in Jason’s mind, that whatever they were doing wasn’t exactly aboveboard. They walked in silence the rest of the way to the cargo hold and stopped as Deetz lowered the ramp and opened the internal pressure doors. Again, Jason was assaulted by an entirely new variety of strange, unpleasant ambient smells and wondered if anyone ever really got used to it. The unlikely trio walked down the ramp and were greeted by a tall, very thin humanoid with olive skin and muted facial features; no prominent nose or ears. The eyes, however, were very green and very bright, nearly incandescent in the hangar’s flood lights.

  “Deetz…” Its voice was low and sibilant, exaggerating the sss sound greatly. It also spoke with an obvious disdain for the synth. “So where, exactly, is Klegsh?” Deetz looked nervously from the speaker to the two armed figures of the same species behind it before answering.

  “There were some … complications … on the last run. The crew never made it back to the ship. I made a run for it and still took some heavy damage, but we had stashed your property before leaving Breaker’s World, so it was safe and sound during all the unpleasantness.” Deetz was talking very fast now in the alien’s native language; luckily Jason’s translator kept him up to speed. “With the captain gone I had no way to get it back out of storage, so I enlisted this human,” he gestured towards Jason, “to help me sign it out and bring it straight here. I know we’re late, Bondrass, but you have to believe that I was trying to get here as soon as I could.”

  “I don’t have to believe anything,” Bondrass said with venom in his voice. He gestured to the two behind him. “Go check it out and let me know what you find.” While he spoke he never took his eyes off the DL7 crew and seemed especially interested in Jason. The guards immediately jogged up the ramp and began scanning the barrels in the cargo bay with some sort of handheld device. Jason was captivated by the alien in front of him, but he had also seen Twingo’s reaction when Deetz had called him by name. It was the same reaction Jason would have had if he had been hitchhiking and found himself standing in John Gotti’s garage facing the Don himself with two of his goons behind him. For the first time since boarding the gunship in that clearing, Jason began to think that it wasn’t likely he would actually survive this little adventure.

  He was actually grateful when he heard the two armed beings marching back down the ramp, if for no other reason than to interrupt the uncomfortable silence between them and the imposing Bondrass. The pair went straight to their boss and one whispered quietly in his ear as he continued to stare blankly at the trio, his face belying no emotion. Suddenly, his face broke into a huge, oily smile, exposing his short, pointed teeth.

  “It seems all is in order. I’ll admit, I had my doubts.” He walked over and put an arm around Jason and Deetz, the latter involuntarily flinching away slightly at the gesture. “But you understand that, don’t you Deetz? After all, you guys disappeared with my cargo at the pickup and it’s taken all this time for you to bring it back here. I half expected the containers to be full of sand.” With gentle pressure Bondrass was leading them away from the ramp. “But now all is well and you’ve shown yourselves to be standup guys. We can maybe talk about some business later. Don’t go anywhere.” The last sentence was most definitely not a suggestion. The tall alien removed his arms and strode away towards the exit, his two guards falling into formation behind him.

  Jason was slightly confused as a work crew seemed to materialize out of nowhere and began unloading the cargo hold using some sort of hovering sleds, and another alien, the same species as Bondrass apparently, albeit much shorter, appeared in front of him with a tablet computer. “As you’ll see here, Bondrass has graciously agreed to pay ninety percent of the original contract, most generous considering how late you’ve been. If you’ll please place your imprint here,” he indicated to another highlighted circle on the screen. Jason looked to Deetz, who nodded almost imperceptibly, and pressed his thumb into the circle. The tablet beeped and the alien looked at the screen and frowned. “I’ve never heard of a … human? … interesting. No m
atter though, your bio print matches the ship’s record, payment is being transferred to the DL7’s treasury as we speak. Once the cargo is unloaded, you’re free to reboard and grab your personal belongings. Bondrass has arranged for a suite to be made available for you and will notify you shortly if he has further use for you. If not, you’ll be cleared to leave.” The officious being spun around on his heels and marched out of the hangar, leaving Twingo and Jason both apprehensive and relieved. Deetz, on the other hand, looked only relieved.

  It took the crew another twenty minutes or so to clear out the gunship and spirit away the cargo. During that time, Jason walked over to lean against the nose landing gear and stare out of the gaping hangar opening into space. Intellectually he knew there was a forcefield holding the atmosphere in the hangar, but part of him was still quite leery of the hard vacuum that was just a few yards away. Once the ground crew left, he walked up the ramp and into the middle of an argument between Twingo and Deetz.

  “This has nothing to do with me! I’m booking the first flight back home and YOU’RE going to pay for it!”

  “You know exactly who that was out there. Do you really think he’d make the distinction between you wanting to be here or not? As far as he, and I, is concerned, nobody is leaving until he says otherwise. Believe me … I’d like nothing better than to dump you right here and now. The fact you’re on board was not my choice. The fact Bondrass has told all of us to stay, including you, is also not my choice.” Deetz’s voice remained calm, but the steel in his demeanor indicated that he meant to back up what he said.

  “Look here, you chunk of scrap metal, I don’t give a leap what you’ve got cooked up with whichever crime lord you’re dumb enough to have dealings with. I’m not bound to any of it and I’m leaving!”