She could see Minh-Chu looking over the large pedestrian crowd, the ships, the crystal-like trees that hung over them filtering the golden light, and finally back to the shouting hawkers.
“Raw forma! What you see is a single percent of our stock in orbit!”
“Small machine parts! Selling bulk only!”
“Buy any item here for five GC!”
“General store! We got hygiene worms! Sims from thirty systems! QECS!”
When he returned his attention to her he had a slightly overwhelmed expression. “It’s called Freeground, but it’s nowhere near as free as this. I mean, our ports are these organized, secure sections where you can’t sneeze without a DNA sniffer running a full background check on you. Admin doesn’t even like people getting off their ships, they prefer to pre-arrange all their business before they dock. I used to hear about it from Jo-“ Minh started then corrected himself, “from Jacob.”
“What was it like growing up on a station?” Ashley asked. “I couldn’t imagine being cooped up in space like that.”
“Well,” Minh said, visibly pondering the question. “Freeground is huge, you could probably fit everyone on this world in four of the main segments. Our living spaces were small, but everyone’s were, so I didn’t really notice. I grew up in pods that were mostly Asian, and our section was big enough to have its own tropical forest.”
“You had a forest indoors?” asked Joyboy from behind. “Man, I have to see this station.”
“It’s way out of the way, but yeah, we had a forest. It was a great place to grow up. Safe, lots of kids, everyone knew each other. School was important though, so I stayed in right up until I joined the Fleet Academy. I wanted to see what was out there, and that was the only way.”
“Couldn’t you sign up with a starliner company or a freighter or something?” Ashley asked.
Minh laughed. “My mother would have hunted me down and brought me back. My role was to get an education, a good job, and find a nice Asian girl to make grandchildren with. It seemed like every fifth person had the last name Buu, but my parents still made it clear that I had to carry on the family name.”
“So you signed up,” Finger, a tall, gangly-limbed pilot behind Minh, concluded.
“Yup,” Minh confirmed. “What is it they say? ‘Join the military, they said. See the galaxy, they said.’” By the time he reached the word ‘military’ most of the people near them joined in. The rest of the expression was recited by a chorus. Minh chuckled and nodded before going on. “A month after I entered the academy, the All-Con conflict began and everyone was rushed through basic. I qualified for officer candidacy, which would have normally put me through an extra twenty months of school, but in wartime it was compressed into two. After final testing, they set me up with a squad and put me on a ship that looked like Freeground on the inside, only a lot smaller.” Minh looked at her for a moment and shook his head. “But most of that is very boring. Just like living on Freeground. I’m happier here.”
“So your whole family is back there?” Ashley asked, genuinely interested. “I’d love to hear about them. I’m half Asian, but I didn’t learn enough about the culture. Keep a lucky dragon with me though,” she said as she turned her back to him so he could see the stylized Chinese dragon crawling up the back of her dress. The group was turning into the first shop, which was a hold filled with wide aisles of cheap decorations and generic supplies.
“I was wondering about that. You have one whenever you’re not in uniform,” Minh said quietly.
“But he probably didn’t ask because he was afraid to admit he was looking,” Pisser commented as she manipulated a pair of cheap pink sunglasses so they looked Ashley up and down.
Ashley smiled at the pilot, amused at how Minh’s squad wasn’t afraid to tease him a little. “I used to love dragons when I was little. I couldn’t read enough about the dinosaurs on Earth or Noxis. For a while I thought the Chinese of ancient Earth used to live with dragons. Glad Fred cured me of that belief.”
“I wouldn’t be the greatest tutor on Asian culture,” Minh said apologetically. “I know just enough to be aware of the fact that my call sign doesn’t really go well with the new name of our fighter wing.”
“How’s that?” asked Ashley.
“A ronin is a samurai without a master, so it’s sort of weird that a pilot named Ronin would lead Samurai Squadron,” Minh explained.
“Ah, well, I don’t think anyone really cares.”
“Anyway, my family tried to teach me about Asian culture, but I found it a little confusing. I think what they knew was a mix of history and culture from all parts of old Asia. My father made sure we knew we were mostly Vietnamese, but beyond that, nothing was absolutely certain.”
“So your family is still in Freeground?” Ashley asked.
“My parents retired to Shem Lam, an old Lorander colony. It looks like my sisters will be going there too. People are leaving Freeground. Since the All-Con conflict Freeground has been near the centre of one war after another. What about your par-“ Minh stopped himself with a look of dismayed surprise. “I’m so sorry,” he apologized hurriedly.
Ashley didn’t mind at all. She fixed him with a smile and shook her head. Her pedigree was one of the things that made her valuable before she was freed, and she was raised to take pride in it. “It’s all right,” she reassured. Ashley tapped the wrist of her vacsuit three times. Her necklace responded by projecting an interface there and she brought up a picture of her mother, a woman with dark brown eyes and long black hair that looked a great deal like her. “Her name was Taina Hau. She was a famous dancer near Umpeur, from what I could find. My dad was Philip Savin, pure Russian going all the way back to old Earth days. I still don’t know why they sold me, but I wasn’t the only one. It might have been the business they were in, tubing babies.”
“You must have cost a fortune!” said Joyboy from behind the next aisle. “That’s like a boutique pure-breed mix. My uncle-“
“Tread lightly, idiot,” interrupted Pisser. She grabbed him by the ear and started walking out of the makeshift store. “New rule: no more talking in public, Joyboy. Consider me your new babysitter.”
“Ow, hey! My uncle had catalogs!” Joyboy objected, trying to keep up with Pisser, who was half a head taller and towing him mercilessly.
Ashley watched them with a little laugh and looked back to Minh, who looked uncertain and embarrassed. “She shouldn’t be hard on him. It’s just a part of who I am. It’s why my master bought me when I was a toddler, you save money if you’re willing to raise your own slaves. There’s no way he could afford me otherwise.”
“I’m sorry,” Minh started quietly.
Ashley recognized something she hated seeing in people around her more than anything. “Nope, no pity,” she said, quietly but sternly. “I’m in a good place right now.” She glanced around at the hold of the old ship and the racks heavily laden with what looked like the loot from a hundred robbed gift stores. “Well, maybe not right now, but you know what I mean.”
“When at a loss for words, it’s best to marry lips,” Minh-Chu said.
“You telling me you wanna snog,” Ashley whispered, stepping closer to him, “or get married?”
“I’ve never looked at that expression that way,” Minh-Chu replied.
“Why does my past make you squirm?”
“Slavery’s illegal on Freeground, I didn’t see it until I was on the First Light, we ran into some nasty people and almost got taken.”
“Steph! Minh! Ash! Ye comin’ or are ye shopping?” called Frost through the broad hatch behind Ashley. “Everything already sold out back at the Warlord and they don’t need our help repairing small arms so us non-shoppers are headed to the meet.”
“I’ve gotta go,” Minh-Chu said. “Jake told me I should bet there when people start arriving.”
Stephanie was at Ashley’s side a moment later. “We’re going to stay here,” she said. “Need a little more retail therap
y before we join you at the meet.”
“Um, okay,” Ashley said to her. “I don’t see why, um, okay.” She decided to follow Stephanie’s lead. She was behaving as though she knew something Ashley didn’t.
“I’ll see you there,” Minh-Chu said.
Ashley caught the sleeve of his bomber jacket and kissed him on the cheek. “See you there.”
She watched him leave before turning to Stephanie. “Am I taking it slow enough?”
Stephanie laughed and nodded. “That’s not why I wanted to hold you back, but if being around is enough to slow you down with that one, then I’ll chaperone for as long as I have to.”
“Then why aren’t I going to the bar?” Ashley asked. “There’s a glom of guys waiting to buy me drinks while I scan ‘em for info.”
“I’m holding you back because you haven’t done any New Years shopping yet, and this might be the only chance we get where Crewcast isn’t recording and reporting everything we do. I know it’s your favourite holiday, being your birthday too.”
“Oh,” Ashley said with a smile. “Then let’s.”
* * *
The rest of the shopping trip was filled with thoughts of spending time with Minh-Chu. She was thankful that she was in the habit of keeping Stephanie and other soldiers from her crew in easy reach, because she was sure she’d wander off in her daydream daze otherwise.
The milling impromptu market was a fantastic place to get lost in one’s thoughts, however. Her thoughts often returned to how uncomfortable Minh-Chu became whenever she mentioned her past as a slave. It was difficult to avoid, since she’d been one for most of her life. Sometimes it felt like she’d lived a long time, like she’d seen a lot of the galaxy. Surrounded by aliens, humans in every kind of dress but the most formal, and offerings from who knew how many worlds, it was easy to realize how little experience she actually had as a space farer. Stephanie often treated her like a much younger sister, which could be frustrating, but it only took her a few months to realize that things didn’t turn out well when Ashley ignored her advice. Taking it slow with Minh-Chu was working out so far, but it was difficult.
There were several shops in ship holds that she didn’t see anything interesting in, but looking was fun. “Looters,” whispered Megan as they made their way along rough aisles of furniture, clothing, decorations and other seemingly random objects. “They set down in cities hit hard by the Holocaust Virus and fill their holds with things from abandoned homes until their holds are full or there are too many ‘bots around.”
“That’s terrible,” Ashley said, more for appearances. She knew there were far worse crimes. From what she’d heard, these looters weren’t stealing from the living. Nevertheless, it seemed like a good idea to keep the thought that stealing from the dead was a victimless crime to herself. If anything was criminal about what she was seeing, it was the prices.
They weren’t far from the bar where Captain Valent, Frost, Minh, and a few others had ventured to when Ashley walked into a hold filled with actual packaged items. There were a large number of people milling about, and real display counters with precious items held securely inside. There were some bulk items, but for the most part, the hold of the Troubadour looked like an actual store. One of the shopkeepers, a man who looked like a miniaturized human with long silver hair immediately recognized that Stephanie was in charge of their group. He proceeded to engage her in conversation, asking which ship they were from, where they had been recently, and what it was like.
Instead of reacting with suspicion, Stephanie turned it into a tit-for-tat exchange. She would offer the name of their ship - The Warlord - then not answer another question until he gave the name of his associates - The Gambit Bay Captains, a group of privateers for the Carthans and other, smaller governments. Before long, the conversation started looking like a competition, and Ashley slowly browsed as she listened in on the fruitful exchange.
As Ashley looked through the low to middling quality of the pre-packaged jewelry - she couldn’t resist picking up a pair of dangly sapphire earrings for herself - she noticed something on the floor behind the shelves. There were several small boxes with old guitars printed on them. “Can I see what that is, please?” she asked the man behind a nearby transparesteel counter.
“Oh, these,” he said as he waddled his overweight form over. “Can’t sell them, no one wants to learn how to play.” He placed one in her hands. “And they don’t have some kinda style flex feature a few guitarists who do look at them seem to want.”
“What’s style flex?” Ashley asked.
“Style flex?” asked another man from across the hold. “Yeah, it’s just something a few manufacturers started working with so the instrument matches your skill and style of playing. Why, do those things have it?”
“I was just telling the lady here that they don’t,” the large man barked back. “God, if he’s going to eavesdrop, the least he could do is listen in on the whole conversation,” he complained at her light heartedly.
“Oh, doesn’t have it,” muttered the conversational intruder as he returned his attention to other things. “Useless thing without it. Who has the time to actually learn to play?”
Ashley turned the arm-length box over in her hands. On the back, a playback of a sitting man playing a green electric guitar started. He was obviously proficient, and the sound was a lot like the classical four piece music she’d heard and liked over the years. He turned one of the four knobs and automatic accompaniment joined in. After a few moments, the well-coifed demonstrator stood up and pressed a button on the stock. The guitar collapsed into a form that would fit perfectly in the box she was holding in her hands. PLAY ANYWHERE, THEN HIDE IT FROM YOUR BAND MATES, FLAT MATES, PARENTS, OR OVERLORDS. A PRODUCT OF STRINGELECTRO, said the advertising text before the demonstration restarted.
“I’ll give you one hundred,” Ashley said excitedly.
“Pardon, Miss?” the counter clerk asked with surprise. “The price tag is on the top.”
Ashley looked and nodded to herself. “I’ll take the other two, then,” she said, gesturing towards the corner where the last two were sitting, collecting dust.
“Then that’ll be thirty five,” the clerk replied with a smile. “Oh, and those earrings and the Glasses?”
“Oh yeah,” Ashley replied, walking to the counter. “And a bag to hide the guitars in.”
Chapter 45
Invasion
“Are you sure they have to stay here?” Lewis asked Ayan as she made her way through the corridors of the Clever Dream. Several young children were being shepherded through by Panloo and a few other adults. Zoe was hanging onto her, taking in her surroundings. She spotted Ayan in her heavy armour and reached a little hand out to her curly hair.
Ayan let her get a lock and Panloo smiled, shaking her head. “I don’t think she’s seen that colour up close.”
“She’s adorable,” Ayan said, looking into the toddler’s big, blue eyes. The nafalli leapt from Panloo to her, burying her nose in her freshly washed hair, followed by her whole head.
“I’m sorry, Ma’am, she loves people, and gets affectionate when she’s excited,” Panloo said. “I think it has a lot to do with her being out of pouch too early. She’s under-grown.”
Zoe’s foot landed on Ayan’s comm unit, and, as if recognizing the technology by touch alone, she turned upside down in Ayan’s arms and touched it as though trying to activate the screen. After having no success, she looked up at her with one hand still on the screen of her comm unit. “She’s smart,” Ayan laughed.
“Oh, you couldn’t imagine,” Panloo squeaked. “Everything has to be locked up when she’s around, especially if it looks like it turns on. I still haven’t figured out how to keep her in a vacsuit without sealing it completely.”
Ayan looked down to see that Panloo was carrying a toddler seat in her other hand, the sealable type with life support. “She’ll stay in that?”
“Oh, she likes this,” Panloo said. Sh
e held the seat up and made a tic-tic sound that drew Zoe’s attention.
With one leap Zoe was in her seat, sucking on a juice straw built into the contraption and holding on to one of Ayan’s fingers. “I’m afraid I have to go,” Ayan told Zoe, leaning in. To her surprise, the toddler let her finger go and pushed her nose away with her feet, rocking her seat precariously. “I think she’s saying; ‘so go then, what are you waiting for?’”
“She’s been getting more…” Panloo started, but hesitated. “Interesting in the last few days. Really becoming her own person, I think.”
“I think she’ll have a very memorable personality,” Ayan said. “Does everything look good? Do you have enough provisions?”
“I’m sure we do,” Panloo said. “Thank you for loaning us your ship, Commander. I’m surprised the Clever Dream isn’t being used as a warship.”
“We have to protect our most precious cargo,” Ayan said. “Besides, the Clever Dream would be targeted first if she got properly scanned. Leaving it as the last resort makes much more sense. Have you spoken to Lewis yet?”
“Oh, the AI?” Panloo asked. “Yes, he was civil. I will be his first nafalli pilot. It’s too bad we won’t be flying anywhere.”
“If he gives you trouble, tell him to talk to me,” Ayan said.
“Thank you again,” Panloo said.
Ayan moved on, returning smiles offered from children who passed. “You’re playing the most important role here, Lewis,” she told the artificial intelligence under her breath. She knew he could hear her through her comm. “You stay inside the hangar, cloaked unless our installation is overrun. Then you run, you take the children to the core worlds, and find a friendly colony. Do you understand?”
“Those are orders?” Lewis said sullenly.
“They are,” Ayan replied.
“For the record, nothing else has the firepower I do. I believe my impact could be significant.”
Spinward Fringe Broadcast 7: Framework Page 45
