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

by Benjamin Douglas

  “Just entered Martian space, that’s right. Had to slow down for the traffic, but we should find a station to dock with in the next hour or so.”

  Tom nodded. “So, here’s the thing. Not all of us want to go to Mars.”

  Lucas pursed his lips. “Ok. I’m hearing you. But this isn’t a pleasure cruise.”

  “No, of course not, we know that. It’s just that, a lot of us have family back in the belt, not just on Ceres—habs and jobs and the world we know, it’s all back there. All we have on Mars is a dubious immigration status, and the possibility of either finding a job in the mines or slipping under the radar into the underworld.”

  Lucas twitched. He was under the assumption that a number of the survivors probably had contacts in the inner system underworld already, being associated themselves with organized crime and piracy via Ceres. But he wasn’t going to say that out loud.

  “If you choose to dump us on Mars, that’s your choice, and we can’t stop you. And we’ll still be grateful that you saved our lives. But you won’t have given us back our lives. You’ll have kept us from them.”

  Lucas took a breath. He wanted to help. But the role of Fairfax right now was growing increasingly complicated. Assuming they did manage to find Taurius, and maybe even the Prophet, and assuming they were able to broker some sort of ceasefire with Rome, and end their temporary piratey obligations, they still had a mission to complete that would take them back to the outer worlds, to Pluto, and home.

  Tom sat still, waiting. The room was silent. Lucas looked around and saw that all of the refugees were watching and listening. He sighed.

  “We have an obligation, once we leave Mars, that will take us to places you cannot go.”

  Mulligan shifted her weight, staring at the floor.

  “But,” Lucas said, “if everything goes well here, we will be passing through the belt once more before that happens. So…” He rubbed his forehead. Well, why not? There was plenty of space. “Those of you who wish to return to the belt, you can stay until we pass through it again. But you’ll have to get off at that point, and I’ll expect you all to make arrangements for yourselves before then. We won’t have time to dawdle.”

  Tom grinned, stood, and held out his hand again. “Thank you, Captain. Thank you! We’ll stay out of your way, I promise. You won’t regret keeping us on.”

  Chapter 18

  Ada’s head hurt. It was a classic tiger-by-the-tail scenario. The psychopaths who wanted their drugs also wanted revenge, and apparently she was one of the ones left holding the tab. She could turn tail and run back for the Kuiper belt. She might make it. But then she would never know what had happened to her dad. And it wasn’t as if things had been much better for her at home, where some other mysterious strangers had tried to kill her.

  Or she could try to track down the Prophet and buy her freedom. She didn’t think much of questing around the inner system with Lady Umbrador, but she had to admit the woman seemed to know what she was talking about. So, in the end they called an unspoken truce, and kept their heading for Mars, with the new goal of finding the drugs to pacify the tiger.

  They slid into Mars space uneventfully, slowing to account for traffic and to plan their next move.

  “Where to, Milady Druglord?” Ada asked. Umbrador had peeked her head into the cockpit again as the planet had come in sight.

  “The load should have a keeper. We just have to find that person.”

  “The keeper wouldn’t happen to be Martian Ambassador Taurius, would it?”

  Umbrador’s eyes narrowed to slits. “You’re well-informed, for a belt-rat. Too bad your track record for finishing jobs is so lousy to date. I might have found work for you.”

  “Kill me now.”

  Umbrador ignored the comment. “I imagine he’ll have gone to ground, so we won’t find him at his official embassy residence. Nevertheless it’s not a bad place to start picking up clues. Here.” She handed Ada a data stick, which Ada plugged into her console. “Address is under ‘Martian Ambassador.’”

  “Very original. Moses, can you bring that up?”

  “Yes, Ada.” A set of coordinates popped up, followed by a graphic showing a suggested course. They were only minutes away.

  “Will there be docking space?” she asked, her eyebrows knitted together.

  “For this little thing?” Umbrador waved carelessly, turning to leave the cockpit. “Honey, you don’t take out a reservation to land a fly on an airstrip.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” Ada mumbled.

  They were hailed with an audio-only livefeed from ground control as they approached the embassy. Moses pinged back an authorization code from Umbrador’s data stick, and were given permission to land at the adjacent docking structure, a multi-level elliptical tower ringed by hangars. Everything was bright and white or shined chrome. Statues adorned the foot of the tower, and a clear single-level hab covered a park with grass, trees, and park benches. Ada let Moses take over their descent, and watched, her mouth a little open. She had never seen such green grass. Everything back home had been dull, rusted, and always half-broken. So far life in the inner belt had seemed like more of the same. But Mars was different.

  Moses brought Cupid to land in a small dock near the top and on one of the narrow ends of the structure. A chubby little man with neon orange hair rushed in to meet them as soon as the hangar door closed. He was dressed in a green pinstripe suit, and a series of golden rings puncturing his face from one ear to his nose. As the ship’s hatch opened, he lurched forward, arms open.

  “Dianne, darling!” He squeezed her effusively, while Umbrador patted his back twice with one hand.

  “Hammy, good of you to be here. It’s been too long.”

  “Even a day without your presence gracing this humble pebble in the sky is too long for Hammy, my dear.

  Ada watched, her face twisted. “The further in you go, the stranger people get, don’t they?” she said quietly as Joyce came out the hatch to join her. “What are those… rings?”

  “Mm, I don’t know what’s wrong with you, Ada. I feel like coming home. Need to get me some of those rings while we’re here.”

  “While we’re here?” She gave Joyce a half-smile. “Does that mean you’re thinking about staying on Cupid when I leave?”

  Joyce shrugged. “Let’s wait and see how the wine is first.”

  Ada went back on board to check supplies. It hadn’t been too long a flight, but she thought she should know if there was anything that could be topped off on Umbrador’s dime while she still had a wealthy woman on her ship.

  Her ship.

  She smiled, and for a moment she let herself dream. If her father hadn’t disappeared; if there weren’t people on both sides of the system trying to kill her; if her life had never changed for the worse, she might still relish the thought of having a tiny freighter to zip around in. Who knew what kind of adventures she might get into? She patted her bunk as she passed through the living quarters. It wasn’t big enough for luxury living, sure. But she didn’t ask for that.

  Raya would have loved it, she thought. A ship just big enough for two sisters to go exploring in.

  Her thoughts were shaken by the sound of blaster fire, and the echo of a hit on the hull. She ducked, instinctively. “Moses?” she subvocalized. “What’s going on?”

  Her earpiece beeped. “Shots fired on the hangar deck. Assailants unknown. Target… achieved. Ada, they shot Lady Umbrador.”

  Ada cussed, running for the hatch. The shooters had disappeared by the time she got there. Joyce turned to face her, shaking her head. Bone Crusher and the two pretty boys stood in a little half-circle. Doctor Saran dropped to his knees in front of Umbrador. Hammy lay beside her, already dead.

  “What happened?” Ada asked, joining Bone Crusher.

  “About to find out,” he growled. He turned and ran in the direction of the shots.

  “She’s fading,” Saran said. He had a device in each hand, and was waving them
over Umbrador’s wounds. “Ada, help me. We need a, a stimulant. Something strong, to keep her heart beating while the bots work. Go grab my bag? On my bunk.”

  Ada nodded and turned.

  “Wait,” a weak voice called. Ada turned around and saw Umbrador struggling to lift her head. Her eyes were glazed in pain, and blood had trickled from the corner of her mouth, staining her lips like a cherry. “Wait,” she said again. Ada came to her knees at the woman’s side.

  “Take this,” she moaned, holding out her hand. Ada took another data stick from her. “To… Harry. Tell him… not too late. Sue for peace. Not… war. Not the… the wizard.” Ada scrunched up her face, trying to understand. Umbrador struggled to put more words together, but her body failed her. The bots couldn’t save her quickly enough.

  Saran heaved a labored a sigh. “She’s gone,” he said.

  “I’m sorry.” Ada knelt, feeling both guilty for not retrieving the bag right away, and perplexed about receiving the dying woman’s confusing final wish.

  “There’s nothing you could have done. Adrenaline wouldn’t have saved her, just prolonged her pain. The damage was too deep.”

  Blood was pooling around the body. Ada watched Saran ignore the death that surrounded them both, staring silently into the lifeless eyes of his patron. So this is what it’s like to be a doctor, she thought.

  “Ada,” Moses buzzed in her ear. “I suggest you all board Cupid immediately. There’s more trouble.”

  She stood. “Did they get Crush?”

  “Bone Crusher was unable to locate the shooters and is on his way back. The problem has more to do with the small fleet of battleships surrounding the planet. And the bomber squadron forming up in orbit.”

  Ada’s stomach lurched.

  Bombers.

  Chapter 19

  The Fairfax slowed to a crawl as they came into the orbital plane. Randall set them in a high orbit to stay clear of the Martian stations, and Lucas drained the last of his coffee.

  “Private Mulligan, please inform the Ceres survivors that we are in orbit over the planet. Have any that wish to disembark on Mars meet me on the hangar deck. Randall, you have the bridge. Caspar, with me.”

  “Sir.”

  He spoke into his comm as he walked, asking for Adams to send Jan to the hangar deck as well. When they arrived, they found both of them waiting with Mulligan and Darren. Lucas spread out his hands.

  “Where are all the refugees?” he asked.

  “Sir, they all wish to stay on until we return to the belt.”

  Lucas huffed. “I might have known that would happen.” He turned to face Darren. “And you’re here because…?”

  “Am I a prisoner onboard the Fairfax?”

  Lucas frowned. “No. But you’re not on my crew, either. Are you leaving us and staying here?”

  Darren’s eye twitched just a little. “Requesting permission to accompany your team on the surface, Captain.”

  “Permission denied. That was easy.”

  “Sir, why?” Mulligan asked.

  “He might come in handy,” Adams said. Everyone turned to look at him. “What? I’m just saying, the man knows how to knock a couple of skulls together, that’s all. They’re no illusions here; we all know we’re hauling freight for pirates, right? Anything could happen down there.”

  “Adams,” Lucas said, “why are you here?”

  “Oh, Sir, I thought you just might, you know, desire my senior leadership whilst on the ground.”

  Lucas squinted at him. “You just want to get out of your crammed new workspace.”

  Caspar made a show of cocking and holstering two kinetic pistols, and checking the charge on the blast rifle she was carrying. She pointed it at Darren. “I can cover him, Sir, if he steps out of line.”

  Lucas’ frown deepened. Now he was just outnumbered. “Fine,” he mumbled. “But this doesn’t mean I like you,” he said, pointing a finger in Darren’s face.

  They boarded the comet-hopper and launched, watching for a moment as the Fairfax drifted away in the rear cam. Lucas shook his head. It was going to take a while to get used to seeing all those guns.

  Caspar piloted. Lucas had taken the spot beside her, but now he rose and moved back toward the cargo area. “Private,” he said to Mulligan. “I’d like you to take the console up front and help Caspar find the Ambassador.”

  She looked daunted for a moment, then nodded.

  “Ambassador Taurius?” Jan asked. “You mean at the Embassy in Sector A-7?”

  Lucas blocked Mulligan with his arm. “Change of plans. You go.” He nodded at Jan.

  “So,” Caspar asked once Jan had joined her. “Taurius is a character in your game? You didn’t think to mention that before in this wild shootout of a mission?”

  He shook his head. “The names and working locations of all official Empire diplomats is a necessary feature of the game. Until now, no known affiliation existed between Taurius and the world of piracy. Or organized crime. Wow.” He grinned. “I wonder if they’ll credit me in the next release if I’m the one to tell them about it.”

  “Huh.”

  “Oh my gosh, can you imagine? If, like, you’re starting up the game and the startup screen comes on and it’s all, seventh edition, featuring extra secret special inside info from pirate extraordinaire, Carl Jan, from the meanest crew this side of the whole belt! And then there’s like this really awesome blaring sound with the lights flashing for like, almost long enough to make you seize up but not really long enough, and it’s sort of—”

  “Sir?” Caspar called over her shoulder. “I miss Tompkins.”

  Jan gave Caspar coordinates, and she brought them down in the northern hemisphere, into an area built up with lots of towering structures and leafy looking habs. “There,” Jan said, pointing at the viewscreen. Lucas saw a tall, elliptical tower. “That should park us while we go in and see the Ambassador.”

  “Somehow I doubt it will be that easy,” Lucas muttered. Caspar brought them to a hover beside the tower. “We haven’t been called yet?”

  “No, Sir. Should I request a feed?”

  “Do.”

  They waited a few moments. Then a minute. Two. Nothing happened.

  “Maybe they’re all on a coffee break,” Adams said.

  “No.” Darren stood behind them all, peering ahead at the screen. “They don’t disregard protocol this far in. Something’s wrong.”

  Lucas nodded. “Alright, I want Adams on my right, Mulligan, you and Darren flank the kid behind us. Caspar, see if you can bring us down on the roof, then bring up the rear.”

  “Aye, Sir.”

  Lucas checked the charge on his blasting pistol. He glanced at Darren. “You ever just wish you could have a boring day, roll out of your bunk and not wade through a sea of gunfire and explosions, just enjoy a little peace and boredom like a regular old civ?”

  “No.”

  Caspar brought the hopper to rest on a landing pad on top of the tower, near one end. No one was in sight.

  “I don’t like this.” She unstrapped and moved to the cargo area.

  “Me either.” Lucas raised his rifle. “Let’s move.” The hatch opened, and they filed out onto the roof. A covered area at the other end looked like it had a lift door, and they trotted over, eyes peeled for any sign of movement. There was none.

  The door was locked, of course, so Lucas had Adams fiddle away with his multi-tool for a moment. It swung open in seconds. “Pretty handy lock-picking, Adams,” Lucas said. “I think you may have missed your calling.”

  Adams scoffed. “Never send a locksmith to do an engineer’s job. I can fix anything, Sir.”

  The lift lit up and announced they were on the roof of the Martian Embassy docking tower. A console showed the structure spanned two-hundred levels. Lucas whistled.

  “Where’s our man, Jan?” Caspar asked as she entered.

  “Ah, he’s, ah…” Jan swiped a screen on his arm-console. “Down.”

  “You don’t
say.”

  “All the way, I mean. He’s the lead Ambassador, you know. Office suite on the ground floor.”

  “Going down.” Lucas keyed it into the console, and the lift began moving.

  About ten floors down, the lift slowed, groaning, and the lights flickered. The car came to a complete stop, with all of them trapped inside.

  “Umm…” Lucas switched on the light on his blaster rifle. Caspar did the same. There was a distant roar, like the sound of aircraft ripping through the thin atmosphere overhead.

  “This was a bad idea,” Adams muttered. “I should have just stayed on the ship. I was happy on the ship. Why wouldn’t I be happy on the ship? My ship. Makes me happy. Ship has a problem, I know how to fix it. Down here, I’m just a—”

  “Adams, stow it.” Lucas smacked the wall console, which had gone dark as well. “So much for fixing everything,” he muttered.

  Darren jumped. The entire lift lurched as he landed.

  “What are you doing?” Lucas yelled.

  Instead of answering, he jumped again. He held a multi-tool in his hand, cutter extended, and he swiped at the ceiling, creating a small tear. “Better use your rifle,” he said. “This thing will take forever.”

  Lucas nodded and aimed where Darren had made the tear. “Everyone get down and cover your heads.” He squeezed the trigger.

  And instantly regretted it. Firing a blaster in a small, confined space at close proximity had to be, he decided, one of the most stupid things he’d ever done. His ears rang, he was blinking and blind in the darkness, and completely disoriented for several seconds.

  The lift lurched once more.

  “Will you stop jumping? We’re up this shaft about the height of a mountain, and I for one don’t want to fly down and become a pancake!”

  “That wasn’t me.” After a pause, Darren jumped one more time, and punched a chunk of the ceiling away. “That’ll do,” he said quietly.

  “Is there a service ladder?” Caspar asked.

  “Should be.” Darren crouched to leap again. Instead, he collapsed against the wall. They all lost their balance as the entire tower shook under the force of a massive explosion, and the lift lurched once more, groaning in protest.