Home: Interstellar: Merchant Princess

by Strong, Ray

  She stood and looked out the window at the approaching Enterprise Station, where the Princess languished.

  She smiled. Hope has returned.

  Enterprise Station—On Station

  Meriel took a tram to green-zone to see Nickolai Zanek, avoiding security cameras along the way to protect his privacy. He’d been on the net his whole life, and if anyone could help her with her mom’s sim-chip, Nick could do it. He haunted station security and remained anonymous—and paranoid.

  Nick was a year older than Meriel. He had been her first on-station friend long before the trouble on the Princess. Meriel and Tommy met Nick in a simulator where they teamed up. He was a master of the game and took pity on them. At the end of the game, Nick surprised them by rolling out in a wheelchair. “You don’t need legs for this,” he had said. After the kids were split up on different ships, Nick coded asynchronous games that they could play together from across the space lanes and stay in contact. He was shy and never talked about his childhood. Meriel never saw any evidence of his family, but somehow he had learned to love. Every Christmas, he had made electronic toys for her and Elizabeth, all of which were impounded as possible evidence after the attack on the Princess. Other than Teddy, Nick was the only person who had sent a message to Meriel after her parents had died. Other than her sister and Teddy, Nick was the only person she thought truly loved her.

  When she entered the G2440 neighborhood, her link buzzed with a text message.

  Across the street.

  Across the street, she saw a door slightly ajar, knocked, and entered a dark hall. The door closed behind her, the lights came on, and Nick wheeled up with a big smile and open arms. They hugged a bit longer than Meriel expected: she had missed him more than she realized.

  “How ya been, M?”

  “Good, Nick,” she said. “I need your help.”

  “Come,” he said and led her into a small room stocked with threadbare, old furniture suitable for a low-rent hacker, then offered her a beer from a cooler.

  “I saw Teddy on Lander,” she said. “And Harry has a birthday party on Wolf next week. You’re invited, if you can make it.”

  “You know that might be impossible given my travel restrictions,” he said.

  Meriel nodded but remained silent.

  “I found nothing about Haven or LeHavre,” Nick said. “The net is dark, but there’s a halo around those words together, like someone is scrubbing the net continuously.”

  “A friend said that BioLuna may have a media blackout. He said that’s where the L5ers went.”

  “Well, if it’s a blackout, it’s tight. And that means expensive.” He stopped, but Meriel did not fill the silence. “But that’s not what your visit is about, is it?” he asked.

  She held up the chip. “It’s the sim-chip again. I think Mom tried to tell me something.”

  “Can’t let it go, huh? Like what?”

  She pursed her lips. “Not sure. Maybe something about the attack. I think the location of the attack was wrong. I think there’s something on Mom’s chip that will tell us.”

  “We’ve tried, M. For years. Your chip is toast. I wouldn’t get your hopes up unless we have something new. Someone corrupted the data, intentionally I think. It’s just too precise, too surgical.”

  “We’ve gotta try, Nick. We’ve only got fifteen days before I lose the Princess. And if I lose her, I lose everything.”

  Nick looked down and let go of Meriel’s hand. “Not everything.”

  Meriel took his hand again. “You know what I mean. My promise to my mom and to the kids. Without it, we’re nobodies.”

  “You’ll never be a nobody.”

  “Nick, please.”

  He sighed. “M, I think someone tried to destroy the Princess with you on it. Your showing up was a mistake.”

  “That’s what Teddy thinks, but she always had trust issues.”

  “Yeah, she’s not much into randomness or the hand of God. Did you read her paper? The one on disappearances?”

  “No,” Meriel said.

  “She pretty much proved that nav or system failures couldn’t explain all the ship disappearances. Something else is going on.”

  “The bogeyman?”

  “I’m serious, M.”

  Meriel was not listening. “Teddy’s brainiac theories won’t save the Princess. Can you do me a favor?”

  “Sure.”

  “Can you get me a pass to the impound dock?”

  Nick paused.

  “I’m not wired,” Meriel said.

  “I know. I trust you. The place is shielded anyway.”

  “Then what is it?”

  He furrowed his brow and looked at her. “Any security breach is regarded as terrorism.”

  “The impound dock is low security.”

  “It’s still security, M. They’ll put you in prison. Forever. Or space you.”

  “You do it all the time.”

  “I never put my body near enough to get caught.”

  “You did once,” Meriel said.

  ***

  Nick had breached security for her once, and she could never tell anyone. It was the one time he’d risked his anonymity, and he’d done it for her.

  Just before the Princess attack, Nick had invited Meriel and Tommy Spurell to one of his caves of computer equipment, and she’d brought Elizabeth along. However, the setup did not impress Tommy.

  “Sorry, pal,” Tommy had said. “I’ll bet you got more compute power here than the whole navy, but I couldn’t live like this. I need the stars.”

  Nick had smiled. “Come with me,” he had said and led them to a service elevator. He hacked access using an ID from a card deck he carried, and they exited at the hydroponics sector. Then he produced a visitors ID badge for himself and borrowed some brown coveralls meant for agricultural workers for Meriel and her crewmates. They followed him through a small section of the huge expanse of vats and pipes while he lectured them about food processing. No one really wanted to know how the station recycled organics for food. Most people were content with the idyllic vids of pastures and barnyards with intact animals. Just as no one wanted to see how Earthers once made bacon, no one wanted to know how station agri made neu-bacon now, but Nick had a captive audience to whom he could explain it all.

  Up another elevator and through a security bulkhead, they reached the upper level of white-zone, the most secure area on the entire station. In front of them stretched miles of arboretum and fresh-food farms, a sea of green that curved up around the torus with no horizon. This must be what Earth looks like, she had thought.

  “Stay under the trees,” Nick had said. “We’ve got twenty minutes before the security drones pass by.” He wheeled over to a huge tree and held out his hand to invite her closer. “Touch,” he had said and took her hand to put it on the tree. The bark felt cold but alive. “This is a redwood. It’s over sixty years old and a hundred feet tall now.”

  Tommy reached for a wild raspberry, but Nick shook his head.

  “We can’t take anything out with us, including what’s in our stomachs,” Nick said. “It will show in the effluent monitors, and they’ll know we’ve been here.”

  Off in the distance, through the trees, Meriel had noticed an expanse of green surrounding large buildings. “Is that wheat?”

  “It’s grass, a lawn,” Nick said.

  “Why? That’s not a crop.”

  “People think it’s pretty. It’s the first thing that people seem to plant when they have land.”

  “It’s like the African savanna on Earth,” Meriel said, and Nick looked back, as if seeing it for the first time.

  Nick reconfigured his wheelchair, and the four of them lay on their backs in a circle with their heads in the center, watching the arc of the torus and stars above them through the trees.

  “I stay here for this,” Nick said.

  Tommy smiled and nodded. “And you’ve got the stars here too.”

  That was Nick’s home, not
the caves of computer equipment below, and if security learned about their visit, he’d lose it all. He had trusted them and didn’t need to say that they could never tell anybody what they saw there, ever: no vids, no stories, no nothing. He never had to mention that if security caught wind of what they had done, they would all get shipped to a child-labor colony—him first.

  ***

  “You breached security once before,” Meriel said again, “for me.”

  Nick smiled. “I admit nothing,” he said and frowned. “There was less at risk then.”

  “I don’t have a choice.”

  “There’s always a choice, M.”

  “Don’t give me clichés. You know what I mean. It would break every promise I’ve made not to try.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Can you get the data from the chip?”

  He shook his head.

  “Then I’ve got to try.”

  Nick nodded. “OK, a pass, huh?” He took out his link and tapped some symbols. “You need an embedded-security ID to get into the Princess.” He moved the symbols on the link and leaned back in his chair. “But I can’t get you onto the security shuttle that gets you there.”

  “Why not?”

  “The bioscreening is too rigorous. We’d have to surgically modify you to pass security at the Enterprise shuttle dock.”

  Meriel looked at him and raised her eyebrows.

  “It’s that important?” he asked, and she nodded.

  “No, M, I’m not gonna do that. I’ll figure out something,” he said while playing with his link. “I’ll drop something in a locker at the Greylight Station near red-zone, number forty-eight. It’ll be keyed to your thumb.”

  “Can you get the schedule for the security rounds?”

  He put three fingers to his temple. “Yes, I have a premonition that someone will call in sick today. Give me an hour or so. No less. You gonna visit me later?”

  “Yup.”

  “Head on over to red-zone, and I’ll send something.”

  ***

  Dr. Ferrell pulled up the ship’s roster and noted that Meriel, like many of the crew, had signed out and was not expected back for hours. Carrying a journal and stylus for camouflage, he walked down the passageway of the Tiger while looking around at each turn to see if someone had followed him. After passing Meriel’s cabin, he went to the intersecting passageway to look around, and then retraced his steps to her door.

  The door was locked with a standard spacer biolock and fingerprint reader. It was flimsy and no match for an uninvited, but determined, guest. Every spacer knew there was no real privacy on a ship, and locks were just reminders of the ethics of never entering without an invitation. But Ferrell ignored the courtesies, jiggled the handle hard, and the door popped opened. He entered and closed the door behind him.

  Ferrell checked the cabinet and found Meriel’s meds with the schedule hologram on the side of the tube that indicated she was taking them daily. The desk and drawers held nothing unusual for a cargo chief. Turning to leave, Ferrell noticed the communications display on her desk and paused. An open session would allow him to see her activities, even if he could not read the files. The bioquery came up, and Ferrell held his link, which contained copies of Meriel’s retina and voice patterns, to the console and played them.

  Meriel’s console displayed a table with a list of names: Elizabeth, Tommy, Sam, Anita, and Harry and rating qualifications displayed to the right of each. Bridge, nav, comm…A training schedule? he guessed. So who are they? He took a picture of the screen with his link. Another window appeared—messages from an Elizabeth, an Anita, and a Jeremy Bell. The last text asked for more money to pursue a legal case for the Princess and custody for some kids. Her old ship? How could that be? he wondered. J. Bell—is that the lawyer mentioned in her confidential file?

  Ferrell checked a few more files, but they all had additional encryption. Afraid that he would leave a trail of his snooping, he closed the console and left Meriel’s cabin.

  The doctor then went back to his cabin and synched his link to his console. He pulled up the list of names and compared them to a roster from the Princess, a roster that had been sealed by court order and one he should not legally have.

  ***

  Meriel shopped for regulation-blue maintenance overalls and a utility belt based on information that Nick sent to her. She then went to the locker just outside red-zone to pick up the ID. Inside the locker, she also found a bag containing a small pistol and a burner link. A note displayed on the link read,

  use the pistol to embed the id chip in your forearm. it will hurt. two id’s are on the chip. click it to toggle between maintenance (blue) and security (red). don’t confuse them, and don’t use the security option until you need to. once you come out, you can’t go back in. turnover is high in maintenance, and they are unlikely to care about a newbie. dock m22, zero-g, diagram included. no toilets. id chip will dissolve in situ after final exit.

  This was part of Nick’s solution to the security problem: two embedded IDs. Meriel was no stranger to the security game and knew that two IDs would not be enough. If her security ID just appeared at the impound dock without logging her path there from red-zone, security would be alerted, and docks would be shut down until they caught her. He’ll figure out something.

  only monthly inspection. every hour, they cycle through with motion detectors and security cameras looking for anything larger than vermin, which would be you. just use the corridors and the galley and the mess hall. ignore the schedule. begin at 17.96 on this link, and it will tell you the next place to be or not be.

  Meriel finished the message and went into a bathroom stall to change and install the ID chip. She pressed the pistol against her wrist to install the chip and pulled the trigger. With a slight puff of gas, the chip tore into Meriel’s wrist.

  “Ow!” she said without thinking. Nick was right; it hurt. It really hurt.

  “OK in there?” someone outside asked.

  “Sure,” she said while rubbing her wrist. And she would still need to press the wound each time she wanted to activate it. She had no bandage to cover the wound and buttoned her shirt cuff to cover it.

  Just before entering red-zone, Meriel stopped at a hydration kiosk and surveyed the area. The security dock extended down a long corridor with security and police facilities to port and shuttle docks to starboard. The last shuttle dock went to the impound dock where the most infamous vessels in the galaxy were stored: warships used to sterilize entire colonies, pirate ships a hundred years old that had infected free space before the stations chartered the troopers to police the space lanes, and numerous smaller ships used for smuggling and petty crime. It was well guarded. If any of the ships were stolen, it might return to the service of plaguing humanity.

  This was it. She had not broken the law yet, and her clothing and preparations were still legal. However, when she used the ID or stepped onto any of the shuttles, she would cross the line. If she were caught, her career would be over, the Princess would be lost, and she’d have trouble ever seeing the kids again—if they didn’t space her. But she had made up her mind. Her career meant nothing to her without a purpose, and the purpose she chose was to give the kids a future together.

  She pressed the wound on her wrist repeatedly until the blue glow from the maintenance ID appeared under her skin. Then she walked to the red-zone entrance.

  A message on the burner link interrupted her thoughts.

  From nz: u sure about this?

  Meriel texted back.

  Yes

  She did not need to announce herself or swipe her ID when she entered red-zone; if her ID did not respond to the RF query with the proper permissions, the security spiders that guarded the entrance would stop her. They wouldn’t kill her; they would just restrain and sedate her, but that would be enough to destroy her life.

  Just past the heavily guarded entrance to the impound shuttle, Meriel waved her wrist near a small panel, and a door
opened—the door to the maintenance shuttle. The entrance flashed yellow to acknowledge her permission. Meriel entered and left immediately for the impound dock.

  The shuttle first stopped at dock N21, where two security officers in red helmets and IDs entered the shuttle. The larger officer turned to look at her squarely. What would he expect? she thought. Should I meet his gaze or cower? She thought meekness more appropriate to maintenance personnel and looked down.

  “New here?” he asked, still watching her. Meriel nodded. “See the big one?” he said and pointed out the window. “That’s Helmut’s Inferno, the boat used to transport human slaves to the mines on G27H. Helmut used to stitch together his own cyborgs and sell the human parts to the organ trade. Ownership is still in litigation. Somebody actually wants to use the bloody thing.”

  Meriel had heard of G27H, another mining colony hellhole, and shuddered. No one intentionally sold kids into sexual slavery or the organ trade. It wasn’t necessary. The excess population drifted there naturally, like water flowing downstream. The healthy bodies with dull minds or bad habits drifted to G27H, Etna, and other stagnant cesspools where the meat grinders were more likely to set up shop. Meriel thought of Penny and the kids and her pulse raced. Stars sparkled in her vision. Breathe, girl. The kids are safe.

  “That one’s my favorite.” The guard pointed to an ovoid with a needle nose and huge jump fans. “They used that one to smuggle Rejuve after the stations banned it. That ship left psychotics in its wake for a decade until the troopers finally cornered it.”

  They approached the dock, and the security officer turned away from her and edged to the door. “Don’t trip on the bodies,” he said with a laugh and elbowed his companion out the door.

  She gazed out the window as they passed the M22 dock, where the Princess was stored. There she lay, a white ellipsoid, her jump fans stowed close to the hull like the wings of a dove. Meriel looked closely for any jets of gas from the hull, which could indicate a weakness in a seam that might blow when normal pressure was restored inside.