Starship Fairfax: Books 1-3 Omnibus - The Kuiper Chronicles: The Lunar Gambit, The Hidden Prophet, The Neptune Contingency

by Benjamin Douglas

  “Could have fooled me.”

  “Can you make it over without a wire? We’re closed the gap significantly, to just—”

  “Don’t tell me how far.” She took a couple of deep breaths. “Next time I’m wandering around a station spending someone else’s money, remind me to get a suit with thrusters.”

  “I can do that.”

  “Ok, here goes.” Her mag-boots didn’t allow her to run, per se, but she gained better momentum with them on than off. Her finger hovered over her console, and she swiped them off just as she reached the edge. Left foot on the lip, she bent her knee and kicked as hard as she could, diving into open space.

  She wasn’t going to make it, she could tell. If it had been in a controlled vacuum, maybe. But the station was wobbly, and Cupid moved while she hovered, despite Moses’ best attempts to keep her still. Joyce leaned out as far as she could and reached for her. “Come here, you pirate swine,” she said into her comm.

  “Trying,” Ada grunted. She reached out and make contact—with her left hand. “Ahhh!” She saw spots and faded out for a second. When she came to, Joyce was cursing prolifically, hanging on to her by the fabric of her suit. Ada’s momentum had carried her beyond the hatch, and if Joyce let go, she would fly out past Cupid altogether.

  “Snap your mag-boots on!” Joyce screamed over the comm.

  Still fuzzy-headed, Ada reached to her console and swiped. The boots sucked her to the hull, where she stood like a space-surfer on Cupid’s side. She closed her eyes and focused on breathing for a moment.

  “Thanks, Joyce,” she managed to mutter.

  “Yeah, well, you owe me. Bad wine, worst taxi ride ever.”

  Ada chuckled.

  After cycling through the airlock, they stepped into the tiny cargo hold.

  “Ada!” Bone Crusher picked her up and nearly squeezed the wind out of her. She managed to keep her left wrist elevated and free from being jostled too much, though lifted it caused her to wince.

  “Good to see you too, you big brute.” Joyce snapped her comm off and removed her headgear. Ada, back on her feet, did the same. Her jaw dropped open. Bone Crusher’s date—the owner of the station level she’d just leapt from—stood in front of her, with a young man at either side, both in sharply tailored suits.

  “Hope she was worth it, Crush. We almost got smashed to bits.”

  “Nice to meet you too, Dianna.” Ada held out her right hand. Dianna looked at it with a subtle sneer.

  “You may address me as Lady Umbrador, if you really have to address me. Better yet, let’s not talk much. Life’s too short to waste on hopeless causes.”

  Ada nodded and walked past her, forcing one of her shoulder men to detach and flatten himself to the wall. There was an air of shock. She didn’t care.

  On her way through the living area she jumped out of her suit and tossed it onto her bunk. More time to worry about being tidy later. Time to worry about escaping with their lives right now. She burst into the cockpit and took her seat.

  “What’s the situation, Moses?”

  “The station has been rendered into five pieces, each of which is at various levels of disintegration. Ceres has been bombed. The area is saturated in radiation. I recommend immediate evacuation.”

  “Sounds like a plan. Let’s get out of here.”

  “The area has been surrounded by mid-size warships, heavily armed, ID’d as belonging to Rome Inc.”

  “That who was firing at us before?”

  “Affirmative. Furthermore, a small fleet of Empire ships are watching from further out in orbit.”

  “What, do they find this whole thing entertaining? Of all the sick, sadistic—”

  Bone Crusher popped into the standing room behind her, looking a little sheepish.

  “Crush, what is that woman doing on my ship?”

  “Your ship?” He quirked an eyebrow. “Ada, we stole this from Carmen together, remember? Fair and square.”

  “Fine. What’s she doing on our ship?”

  “You saw the station—it’s not safe for anyone there! The way I figure, we’re saving lives. And it’s not just her. It’s those two boys, too. They’re like refugees, Ada. You and me, we’re like real life heroes!”

  “They aren’t refugees, they’re her lackeys, Crush. Now we have three more mouths to feed, three more pairs of lungs sucking up air, three more voices bouncing around this can while we sail off to… to…” She trailed off. Now that she thought about it, she had no idea where to go next.

  “Dianne paid for all the provisions on board.”

  She sighed. “Crush, for a big, bulky, pit-fighting pirate, sometimes you can be annoyingly reasonable.”

  He shrugged. “I’m not just a pretty face.”

  Ada pulled up a tactical view on her console. They were surrounded, it was true—but the ships seemed to be homing in on something else. Another ship, nearer the surface. They were crowding around it like carrion around a corpse. “Would hate to be flying that thing,” she muttered. “Moses, take us up and peel back, see if we can’t slip off while everyone’s distracted.”

  “Confirmed.” Cupid’s nose tipped up, and stars spun in the viewport. Ada swallowed against her gorge. Next time she was on a space station spending someone else’s money, she should also eat less.

  “Who’s in charge, here?” Lady Umbrador had peeked into the bridge, looking about with contempt, as if she had opened the door on a closet full of moth-eaten clothes.

  “I guess I am,” Ada said without turning.

  “Oh.” Umbrador cleared her throat. “In that case, I suppose we will just have to speak. Who is responsible for… this?” She waved her hand generally, encompassing the mess that had been made of Ceres space.

  “A surprisingly good question. Moses, do we know if the Rome Inc. ships were working for an outfit? Or for the Fleet, maybe?”

  Umbrador stiffened.

  “Unknown. But the Rome Inc. ID has been confirmed for all attacking vessels within scanning radius.”

  “Thank you.” She turned to Umbrador. “Now you know as much as I do.”

  “More,” Umbrador muttered.

  “Care to share?”

  “No, thank you. Where will we go to?”

  “A little quid pro quo would be nice, here.”

  “Fine. The ships ID’d as Rome Inc., didn’t they? Then I would say the only conclusion is that they all work for Rome Inc. A stunning leap of logic, I know. Now, where are you taking us?”

  Ada turned to look at Bone Crusher. “She’s sassy, Crush. I see why you like her.”

  “Wha—well, goodness!” Umbrador turned to go. “I expect to be briefed when you have plotted a destination!” She exited the cockpit.

  Ada pretended to shiver. “Aww, all that hot air was keeping me warm. Chilly now!”

  “Ada, be nice,” Bone Crusher rumbled. “She’s a Lady.”

  “Ohhh, I see.”

  “Where are we going, though?”

  Ada quirked her mouth to the side. “Moses, what’s the nearest hab with a public trading ground?”

  “With Ceres gone, Mars is the closest.”

  “Can we make it there with the power and provisions we’ve picked up?”

  “Affirmative.”

  She turned to Bone Crusher. “I guess that’s where.”

  Chapter 15

  Lucas watched the flames vent away into space, and the charred remains of the escape pod fly apart like flotsam. He went numb. Who would shoot an unarmed pod of civilians out of the sky? Only a monster.

  “Captain, we’re passing them! Back up, back up!” Mulligan was frantic over the comm.

  “Randall, bring us alongside!”

  Randall, too, had been transfixed by the horror onscreen. Now he snapped into action, slowing the Fairfax and rolling them to meet with the last remaining pod. By the time Mulligan confirmed the pod had been retrieved, the tactical field had changed dramatically. Fairfax was now surrounded.

  The small pal
e man appeared once more. “Freighter, surrender the pod or die. Or surrender the pod and die. Your choice.” He smiled.

  “You’re inhuman,” Lucas rasped, his throat tight and dry.

  “Thank you! So, just die, then, I take it?”

  Lucas was bewildered.

  “Right. See you on the other side.” The feed ended just as abruptly as it had appeared. As one, the surrounding ships began inching forward.

  “Caspar?”

  “I’m ready.” Her voice was grim as death, her thumbs hovering over her triggers.

  “Randall?”

  “Ready.”

  “Incoming transmission,” Jeffrey announced. This time they saw the bridge of the Empire Fleet battleship. The Captain sat, looking directly into the cam.

  “Alright, kiddos, that’s enough fun. Time to leave the kitty box. The Empire will take it from here.” The feed zapped off.

  “Um… was he talking to us?” Caspar asked.

  “Jeffrey,” Lucas said. “Any chance we intercepted the wrong feed?”

  “That message was a wide broadcast, meant for all ships in this area, I take it. You’ll notice the Rome Inc. vessels seem to be complying.”

  Lucas glanced at tactical, and saw it was true. The surrounding dots had begun to peel off and head out, away from Ceres and the Fairfax.

  “Never thought I’d say it,” he mumbled, “but three cheers for the Empire.”

  “Hear, hear,” Randall said, his voice cracking. There was a tense sputter of laughter across the bridge.

  “Easy to break up a fight you ordered in the first place,” Caspar said. Her voice hadn’t gained any levity. Lucas pondered her words.

  “I don’t think they would order this. If the Empire wanted to clean out Ceres for good, they’d use their own fleet, don’t you think? This has only served to strengthen and embolden Rome. But it seems obvious they at least allowed it.”

  “Same thing in my book,” Caspar said. She fiddled with her console.

  “Helm, let’s move out of here. Lay in a course for Mars, would you?”

  “Aye, Sir.”

  Lucas unstrapped and stood, rubbing his face. He had a band of refugees to greet.

  —

  The hangar deck was chaos.

  Mulligan was surrounded by people—some demanding answers, others pleading that they go back to the tubes to retrieve loved ones. Lucas cleared his throat and stomped on the floor. “Attention!” he bellowed. All eyes turned to him.

  “You are aboard a freight-ship bound for the inner system. We took you on because your vessel was about to be destroyed by the same people who destroyed your home seconds before. If you don’t like being here, I’m sorry. You’re here now and you’re stuck until we get to Mars. At that time I’ll expect you to leave the ship and make arrangements for yourself. Until then you will be granted asylum here. Now please organize yourselves into two lines, one forming up to Private Mulligan there, and one forming up to me.”

  They began to separate into lines, mumbling.

  “Quiet, please. When your turn comes up, give your name and any other information asked for. You’ll be given quarters in a spare bunkhouse in the lower decks, and a dispensary ration. There will be no discussion of returning to Ceres at this time.” He made eye contact with those he had heard arguing loudest for this. “Understand that not only have the tubes been destroyed by substantial bombing, but that the weapons used pose a fallout threat. Furthermore, the hostile forces that attacked you are presumed to still be in the area.”

  He sighed.

  “I’m Captain Jack. I know this is difficult, and I’m sorry. We’ll do our best to make you comfortable while you’re onboard. That’s all.”

  He comm’ed for Private Tompkins to come take his place, but stayed to register the first few people in his line. A mother. A security guard. A miner. Lucas had no illusions about the character of the people he’d taken on. A number of them looked like the type he would assume had mafia or pirate affiliations, and even the most honest civilian among them had been hardened by life in the tubes. But they were homeless now, refugees of a brutal attack, and his charge. He made an effort to show them all equal respect and deference. He couldn’t imagine losing his entire home, and likely everyone he’d ever known, in a few seconds.

  Back on the bridge, he found he was rubbing his eyes every few seconds to stay focused. “Caspar, Randall, you both should take some rest.”

  Caspar turned, frowning. “What about you, Sir?”

  It was a sticky situation. They’d flown out from the Kuiper Belt in the first place with a skeleton crew, because there was a tenuous peace with the Empire at the time, and their mission was supposed to be a simple one of conveying Martian Ambassador Taurius to Pluto. When Captain Harris had been killed, Lucas had found himself thrust into command with a very small, and mostly junior, crew.

  “Let’s take it in shifts,” he said. “Four on, four off? For now, anyway. You can relieve me at o-nine-hundred.”

  She sighed, nodded, and left the bridge.

  “Well, Jeffrey, I think we’re alone now.”

  “Goody.”

  Lucas thumbed through screens on his console. “You don’t happen to have access to a game called called Battleworld Zeta?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.” The screen flared to life with a gaming menu. With the ship on auto-guidance for now, and everyone else either resting or attending to the Ceres survivors, Lucas settled in for a little pirate research.

  First, he got to select which quadrant of the inner system he wanted to start in. He puckered his lips and selected the asteroid belt. Which outfit? Carmen’s Crews was one option, and it sounded familiar. He must have heard Jan say it. He picked it.

  The new few minutes involved the vainglory of designing an avatar, and he went through the motions absentmindedly. Sex? Male. Height? Average. Hair? Brown. No, blue. When in Rome, after all. He grimaced at the expression, now ruined forever. Name? Jack.

  Position? Only two options—freight worker or privateer hand. Huh. He selected freight worker, even though the privateer sounded more fun, since the Fairfax had been appropriated to haul freight.

  A loading icon washed over the screen, and then faded to a summary of his location, avatar, and position.

  “Congratulations, Jack,” a female voice said. “You have been assigned the position of freight worker for Carmen’s Crews. You are currently stationed on Geta-4.”

  “No way,” he murmured. Now things were getting interesting.

  The screen showed a small room with a conference table ringed by chairs. It looked familiar. He led his avatar in and sat down. A door at the other end opened, and a very familiar woman with wild blue hair frazzled out around her face entered and sat opposite him.

  “Jack,” she said. “I know you’re new, but I needed to meet you before you run a job for me. Head down to sublevel nine and ask for Harry, he’ll load you up. I just like to get a look at the new faces. I don’t like surprises popping up down the line.” She smiled and stood, extending her hand.

  Lucas cursed. Something was rotten in the pirate guilds.

  Chapter 16

  Ada woke in the cockpit, still groggy and sore all over. She raised her hands to her face and almost cried out in pain. Right. Her wrist.

  “You ok?” Joyce was sitting beside her, feet up on the console, sipping something from a metal canister.

  “No, I’m not ok! I’m fairly certain it’s broken.” With her right hand, she pinched her left forearm, trying to distract her body from the pain.

  Joyce nodded behind them. “Crush says one of those boys is a doc. Lady Dumbrador’s private physician.”

  “Lady Dumbrador?”

  Joyce shrugged. “It’s a work in progress. Anyway.” She opened the hatch behind them and banged on the wall. “Hey, pretty boys! Which one of you carries a stethoscope in his pocket?”

  The men were sitting on bunks, fiddling with their devices. They spared her a glance, a
nd one of them cautiously raised a hand. Joyce nodded at Ada.

  “Our pilot’s broken. You want to survive the endless void of space and get back to civilization, I’d suggest you come up and fix her.”

  “Thanks,” Ada mumbled.

  “No problem. I’m a people person.” Joyce snapped in a pair of earphones and began to softly sing along with a retro cometpop song.

  “I’m Doctor Saran,” the man said. “Are you hurt?” He was standing behind them, leaning forward. His sandy blond hair swooped over his face a bit, and he brushed it back.

  “It’s my left wrist. Fell on it pretty bad back in the chaos, can’t put weight on it or hardly stand to touch it now.”

  He nodded, taking out a small device. “May I?” he asked, reaching out. She nodded. With one hand he gently took her left forearm, and with the device, began running scans.

  “So, Doc, will I live?”

  He smiled, eyes on the device. “That remains to be seen for all of us, I think. But if you’re asking about the wrist, yes, you’ll live.” He pulled out another device and swiped through a holoscreen. “Shouldn’t take the bots long to repair the tissue damage. We’ll get you a brace, and you’ll just have to baby it for a few days.”

  Ada furrowed her brow. “Nanobots? They’re real?”

  The doctor almost succeeded in suppressing his laugh. “You haven’t spent much time on the inner worlds, have you?” The device beeped, and he looked at her. “Pretty standard stuff now, for a situation like this. The break has been left alone too long to heal on its own. I could use force to snap it into place if you prefer, but it would be extremely unpleasant. For both of us. Or, if you consent, I shoot these little guys into your arm,” he held up the second device, and a tiny needle emerged, “they swim down to your wrist, take care of business, hang out for a few hours, die, and eventually you just pee them out.”

  “That easy?”

  “That easy.”

  “Well, shoot away.”

  She tried to relax as he stuck her in a vein inside the elbow, but the thought of a bunch of little automatons swarming around inside her body almost made her sick with nerves. Her dad had once told her he thought nanobot abuse was one more reason high-level AIs had been outlawed throughout the system decades ago. Taken in high enough quantities, he said nanobots with sufficient autonomous identity could cluster into a hive-mind and take over cognitive function of the host, like some kind of bodily possession. That had scared him far more than the stories about habs being destroyed by well-intending AIs with insufficient guidance. One of the reasons he had no problem with Ada tinkering so much with Moses was that there were no nanos anywhere on Cyron-2. No nanos, no possession. AI problem solved.