by K A Bledsoe
Chapter Twelve
“What are you working on?”
Diarmin started at the strange voice and nearly dropped the microtool he was using to adjust the tiny sensors in the receiver patch he was working on. Instead he gripped the tool in a fist and whirled around to see Ven Bondle staring at him, eyes widening at Diarmin’s reaction.
“Nothing important,” he replied, trying to slow his pulse. He dropped the tool on the workbench and covered up the work surface with a heavy cloth so none of the little pieces would shift. As he struggled to calm down from his overreaction, he thought that maybe a stranger on the ship hadn’t been such a good idea. He had nearly gotten his violent emotions under control after they were reawakened in the rescue attempt. But, then again, he was used to his family, and they were careful not to disturb his concentration while he was deep in a project.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” said Bondle as he took a step back. Diarmin wondered what his own face must look like because Bondle’s had fear plastered on it. He deliberately smiled and relaxed his shoulders, body falling into the easy charm he had always been able to project. It’s why he was so good at his job.
Former job. He put the memories out of his mind.
“You startled me that’s all.” Diarmin grinned. “Surely a scientist knows what it’s like when you are completely focused on a problem.”
“Of course,” said Bondle and his return grin told Diarmin that the affable demeanor was working to calm the passenger. “I should have known better than to disturb a fellow tinkerer. I was just checking on the containers and really have nothing else to do so…” He lifted his hands briefly and sighed.
“Bored?”
“A little.” He shoved his hands back into the pockets of the lab coat he never took off and chuckled. “The only other time I was on a ship was to go to Drenon, and then I was doing research the entire time.”
“Ah, I understand. We have some entertainment vids you can watch or even some games we can put on the screen in the lounge.”
“Not really my thing, but I suppose it’s better than nothing.”
“If you prefer exercise, there’s some equipment in—” A beep from the intercom interrupted him.
“Dad?”
“Yes, Quinn?”
“Course change in two minutes.”
“On my way,” he replied. Diarmin wiped his hands on a towel and turned to Bondle. “After the change I will show you how to access the entertainments.”
“May I come watch? I’ve never been on a bridge before.”
Diarmin hesitated. Technically the bridge was off limits but as long as he watched the passenger closely it would be fine. And it was only a course change, nothing vital.
“Of course. Follow me.”
They went up the two levels to the bridge and as Bondle stepped off the ladder, his head swiveled madly to take in all he could. The look of interest on his face was almost amusing.
“It’s smaller than I thought it would be,” he mused.
Diarmin told him to stay by the ladder and took his own seat at the command console.
Quinn, seated at the navigator’s station, answered. “It’s only a yacht, not a large cruise vessel or freighter.”
“No, I don’t mean that. I meant I thought it would be as large across as the lower level. This is only about half the size.”
“Two-thirds to be exact,” explained Quinn. “Behind that wall is the life support systems for the ship. Gotta breathe, you know.”
“I see. Fascinating.”
Diarmin cleared his throat as he punched in the commands for the course change. Quinn glanced at him and turned red at Diarmin’s slight shake of his head. It was one thing to let a stranger on the bridge. Quite another to explain the layout of vital systems. Bondle noticed the subtle exchange and colored slightly.
“Sorry. I like to know the answers to things. Thank you for indulging my curiosity.” He gave a slight bow to Quinn.
Quinn merely nodded and turned back to his console.
“Dropping out of transspace in three… two…one…” said Quinn.
A very slight tremor shuddered through the ship. Diarmin checked the space around the yacht. All clear, no other ships in the area. He didn’t say this aloud because of Bondle but continued with the process.
“Thirty minutes to the next point.”
“Acknowledged,” said Quinn in a neutral voice.
Diarmin hid a smile. He was trying to be professional again, his way of apologizing for his earlier slip.
“Why thirty minutes?” asked Bondle. “I thought transspace shifts only took a minute or two to reorient then off again.”
Diarmin noticed Quinn’s shoulders tense but he wisely said nothing. Diarmin took the pressure off by answering himself. This wasn’t information about the ship, simply basic knowledge that anyone could look up if they were so inclined.
“This is a small, private yacht, Mr. Bondle, so we have to drive in the cheap lanes, so to speak.” He kept his fingers active on the command board while he explained. “Some of the private yachts can afford the fast routes but we take the ones less traveled. Freighters on regular routes have the courses charted beforehand. Sometimes only the computer handles the changes and they are quick indeed, but that takes money.”
“Is that why it costs more to travel commercially?”
“One of the reasons. Those fees are built into the fare.”
“But space is so large, why are routes needed? And who monitors them?”
“It may seem like there is a lot of room out here but things like stars, planets, black holes, nebulas, dark matter, and other things get in the way of straight courses so there are fewer available routes than you think. Didn’t you take basic astrophysics in school?”
“I suppose I did but I really wasn’t interested in anything but biochemistry so…” Bondle shrugged.
“Another reason we cruise for a short distance out of transspace is to pick up any messages that may have been sent while we were out of communication. And speaking of which, it appears we have a message.” He looked pointedly at Bondle. Bondle stared back for a few moments then took the hint.
“Oh, you probably want to have privacy for that. I, um, will go see what vids you have in the lounge.” He hastily descended the ladder. Quinn stood and quietly walked over to look down the ladder.
“He’s gone. Do we really have a message or were you trying to get rid of him and his questions?”
“Both actually.”
“I noticed when explaining about the cheap lanes, you didn’t mention that we purposely take the out-of-the-way routes.” He grinned. “To avoid pursuers.”
“Not something he needed to know. Now let’s listen to the message.”
“Do you want me to get Mom?”
“Do you know what she’s doing?”
“I think she and Alli are decoding more of the information we got from either the slave organization or Lord Timatay.”
“Let’s not bother them until we know what the message is. Could be simply an advertisement.” He winked at his son who snorted at that answer. Diarmin hit the playback command.
“Hello. My name is Kurla Plaad. I am responding to your message for passenger transport. I know that was several days ago, but I am hoping you will be in the area of Sultra Station. I need to transport myself and my deceased mentor, High Priest Phylian. Please contact me as soon as you are able so we may discuss terms.” Three different contact codes followed the message.
“Interesting. What a coincidence that our refueling stop is Sultra,” said Quinn as he cocked his head at his father. “Too much of a coincidence?”
“Quinn, you are becoming as paranoid as your mother,” said Diarmin, though he was thinking the same thing. “Weren’t you the one to say it was a large hub?”
“Yes, I did.” But his face didn’t shed its suspicion.
“Keep on our course. I will take the message to your mother.”
Quinn nod
ded, his expression going blank. Diarmin cursed at himself as he downloaded the message onto a pad. Quinn went emotionless like that when he was remembering his capture.
And I was stupid enough to remind him of it with my comment about paranoia.
***
“Try that section, Alli,” said Lenore, pointing to the relevant text. Even though they had the Chanis cypher for the data, not all the blocks needed the cypher. Some of the data was also incomplete because they didn’t get everything in their raid to rescue Quinn. Figuring which was which was only the first step.
“Knock, knock,” said Diarmin, rapping on the door frame.
“Hey, Dad,” said Allison without turning her head.
Lenore leaned back from Allison’s terminal and stretched, her popping spine telling her she had spent too long at this.
“What’s up, Diarmin?” she asked.
“Executing a course change and received a message.”
Lenore took the pad he handed to her and listened to the message.
“A woman and a dead priest?” she asked.
Diarmin nodded and Allison snorted.
“At least the priest won’t eat much.”
“Very funny, Alli. Do we have room for both, Diarmin? I don’t know if we should put a body down in the cargo bay with the six-alls.”
“Hey, the priest could be cremated and in a tiny urn for all we know,” said Diarmin.
“You’re right. I guess I am still envisioning the last body we had on the ship.”
“I know,” he said. “I did too. But I figured the woman can have the bedroom next to Bondle and if there is a coffin, we can put it in the third room. We won’t be accepting any more passengers anyway.”
“Good idea, though we will have to move the exercise equipment. Again.”
“I’ll see what I can find about Kurla Plaad,” volunteered Allison.
Lenore chuckled. “You just don’t want to help move all the stuff.”
“Of course I don’t,” she said in the tone she used when trying not to sound too pompous. “But you can store some in my room. I don’t use that corner.” She pointed to the corner at the end of her bed.
Lenore sighed. “Let’s go do some heavy lifting, Diarmin.” But her grin belied her suffering tone.
They walked out the door and heard sounds coming out of the lounge. Diarmin pointed at the ladder to the cargo bay and headed that way. Lenore followed.
“What did you want to talk about away from anybody’s hearing?” she asked her husband as they reached the far side of the bay, the point farthest from the ladder opening.
“What are the chances this is merely a coincidence, happening to be at the exact place where we plan to refuel?”
Lenore stopped herself short of laughing because of the seriousness of her husband’s face. He is really worried. Odd, I’m usually the paranoid one but I didn’t go there.
“Maybe we should trust in luck for once. Not every job will be dangerous.” She lowered her voice. “I am more worried about those containers than a random passenger.” She waved a hand in the direction of the six-alls. “The assistant who helped load indicated the possibility of danger but wasn’t very specific.”
Diarmin rubbed his chin. “Bondle is asking a lot of questions but he doesn’t seem to be the shady type.”
Lenore noticed her husband’s wrinkling forehead and tried to put him at ease. “We will be vigilant. It’s our ship after all and nobody knows it like we do.”
“Right.”
But his flat tone told Lenore that his worry was still there. And now, unfortunately, he had awakened her paranoia again, just when she thought she might be relaxing for the first time in a very long time.
Chapter Thirteen
“Full disguise? Really? After all you said yesterday?” asked Diarmin as Lenore exited their cabin and headed for the hatch that connected the ship to Sultra Station. The black wig had very long tresses that occasionally obscured her face, but the nose putty and eye-color lenses showed she wasn’t taking any chances.
“Look,” she said, pulling on her gloves. “You got me thinking. There are several unknowns and I was wrong for letting my guard down. We don’t know how Daviss found us in the first place and since we haven’t heard from them at all yet, I need to be on full alert whenever I leave the ship.” She settled her belt pack then cinched her belt a little tighter which accented her waist, her outfit showing off her breasts and hips. This outfit was what she called 'Look at everything but my face.' Was she wearing lifts too?
“You mean ‘we’ need to be on alert,” he said, his worry growing at Lenore’s mission attitude.
“Yes, that’s what I meant,” Lenore said absently as she stuffed her holdout blaster in her boot.
“A blaster, too? You know what happens if you get caught with that? They're illegal for citizens on this station.”
“I figure it’s worth the risk. Okay, I’m ready.” She held out a hand and Diarmin deposited a credit flimsy in her palm.
“This is nearly all what Bondle paid us up front, minus the cost of fuel. It’s not much.”
“It should get us enough food to last for this mission.” She peered up at Diarmin through the long bangs of her wig. “Don’t worry. I will take every precaution and be back within the hour.” She gave him a peck on the cheek and opened the hatch.
Diarmin knew she was trying to play it cool but the way she peered carefully through the hatch to the private lounge before she entered told him she was at full vigilance. He watched her go with that fear he always had whenever she left on a mission.
But this was a simple resupply and passenger pick up. He tried to convince himself she would be fine. He failed miserably.
***
Lenore paced along the station corridors, keeping her face down as if looking at the pad she was carrying, but eyes roving all around, hidden behind her bangs. She had tried to ease her husband’s worry, but her heart was pounding and senses on high alert.
As the corridor opened up into the large central area where most of the shops were, she paused at the entrance and scanned the plaza. The area was roughly oblong with a fountain in the middle surrounded by shops of all sizes. It was relatively early so there weren’t many people and the shops were just beginning to open for the station’s day.
There! That man by the fountain. He looked at his pad and then around. Is he trying to match a face? Maybe mine?
The man’s eyes lit upon a clothing shop. He smiled, pocketed the pad and headed for the entrance to the store.
Oh. Just looking for a certain place. Lenore took a few more steps, eyes now scanning for a store that sold food packaged for small private ships. An elderly woman with a cane was approaching and Lenore paused. She saw the woman’s cane hit a slightly raised deck plate, causing her to stumble. By reflex, Lenore reached out a hand to help.
“Thank you, young lady,” said the gray-haired woman with a smile. She went on without a backward glance, but Lenore chided herself for being so reckless. She patted her pockets and belt pack, but all her possessions were still there. A quick swipe of her sleeves showed she hadn’t been planted with any tracker. For her own peace of mind, Lenore pulled out her mini device scanner, but it showed nothing. Just a harmless encounter.
As she pocketed the scanner, a piercing shout made Lenore turn around in a crouch, hands up to prepare for anything. When three children ran by, laughing and obviously playing a tagging game, she grew angry at herself.
Stupid, stupid me. My overreactions make me stand out more than anything else. I need to relax and seem like a normal customer. Though her eyes never stopped sweeping the other shoppers, she took a deep breath, lifted her shoulders and kept on until she found the food mart.
Ten minutes later, she had bought enough staples to see her family through the next couple of weeks. Plain food but that would be a welcome change.
“Shall I deliver these to your berth?” asked the clerk after he scanned the credit flimsy Lenore held
out for him. Squashing her suspicions at what was a common question, she pulled out another device from the small pack at her belt.
“No, thank you. I brought a portable grav lift.” She placed it on top of the waist-high pile of boxes and a field extended around them, raising the entire load about two inches off the ground. She attached a cord and tugged the load. It pulled easily and she headed toward the door.
As the clear doors began to slide open at her approach, Lenore noticed a familiar face on the other side of the plaza. She immediately dashed to the side of the opening, the load of boxes jerking with her to bang lightly against her legs. Lenore ignored this as she identified the face.
Daviss.
A man and a woman were flanking him, and his head turned from side to side.
How did he find the station so quickly? We have been here for less than an hour and there have been no opportunities to place a tracker since we last checked. Daviss and his cronies were heading out of sight of the store she was in. Lenore made a snap decision.
She maneuvered the load to the back of the store. The clerk’s head came up as she startled him heading for the back room.
“I forgot there is something I have to do. Shouldn’t take long.” She thrust one of her few credit notes at the young man. “There is another of these for you if this is untouched when I return.”
“Of... of course,” he said. He appeared about to refuse the money, but Lenore pressed it on him. She didn’t have time to argue. Taking out her pad and going into full acting mode, she exited the store, peering again through hanging hair. Daviss was at the far end, disappearing into a corridor nearly directly opposite of the one she had entered the plaza.
Quickly she headed to follow, eyes looking at stores and then the pad as if she was searching for an address. As she approached the area where Daviss had gone, she quickly walked past, letting her peripheral vision tell her if he was there. He and the two others had paused about three meters in and were talking. She stood on the other side and activated her hearing implant.
“...the main shopping area though there is another on the very uppermost level.”
