by Matt Novotny
“Three, four times I rememberin’,” said Amos from the hallway.
“You hush now,” said Bes. “Sabine have a surprise for you, Jac-son. Go on, Sabine, you show ‘im.”
Sabine took Rains by the hand again and led him down the hall to a closed door. “You haf’ta put your hand on the sensor,” she said. Jackson put his hand on the doorplate. After a second there was an audible click as the door opened. The name display above the sensor lit up: Uncle Jackson.
“Come on!” Sabine said, pulling him into a suite similar to hers. “We used Peacemaker colors in your room!”
Rains’ slate let out an urgent tone, snapping him back to the present. It was an encrypted guild alert. Opening the message required him to enter his guild authentication codes. He took a deep breath as he did. Encrypted alerts are never good news, he thought.
The message verified his codes and opened a classified mission brief. Rains studied the files. A Peacemaker investigating the attack on the Nomis data relay was overdue for check-in. By three weeks? What were they thinking? Then he saw it: No resources available.
He looked through the dossier. The photo of the missing Peacemaker, Ravak, showed an older Besquith, her silver fur turning white around her eyes and muzzle, her left canine broken. Rains scrolled through her stats. Twenty-two years of service, communication specialist, expert in computer security and electronic warfare. Not an easy nut to crack then. If she had gone to ground, she wouldn’t be easy to find, thought Rains. Looks like her last known location was Gorton Station.
He read Ravak’s last report. “En route to Gorton Station in order to arrest Sin’Kura on existing warrants.”
Rains reviewed Sin’Kura’s rap sheet.
She has quite the list of convictions. Rains stopped cold. Including a prison break. “There it is,” he said aloud. Known associate of Kr’et’Socae.
He did a quick search. Gorton station was in a system with three gas giants and served as a transshipment hub for the exotic gasses mined there, some luxury goods, which meant at least a decent black market, and—Rains did a double take. F11. Now that was interesting…
The guild is bound to send someone, but if I leave now and find out what happened to Ravak or this Sin’Kura, it could get me one step closer to Kr’et’Socae, Rains thought. There will be hell to pay when they find out I’ve gone. Rains considered, then sent a message to Tara to let her know he needed to talk to her and headed toward his quarters to grab his go-bag and armor.
Rain’s slate chimed. It was Tara.
“Jackson, your message looked urgent. What can I do for you?”
“I have a guild matter to attend to. I would commandeer a commercial transport, but I need something discreet…”
“Not a problem, Jackson. I can have Cargill take you in the Ptolemy. His ship is an old Magellan-class survey ship. It’s small, but it has legs. Where are you headed?”
“Gorton Station. I don’t think I’ve met Cargill.”
“He hired on when Force 25 evacuated Victoria Bravo. After the run, he asked to stay on. He was good to work with, so I said yes. Having an extra ship available never hurts. I’ll let him know to expect you. Pad Three. When do you want to leave?” said Tara.
“As soon as he can be ready,” said Rains.
“Hope you’re packed then.” Tara grinned. “Cargill is a ‘be prepared’ kind of guy.”
“Works for me. I’ll be at Pad Three in two hours unless I hear from one of you,” he said.
“Watch your six, Jackson. We’ll want you back when it’s time to move,” said Tara.
“I will,” said Rains. “Good luck getting the new recruits up to speed and tell Bev and Thomas I’m sorry I won’t be here to help them finish up the work on Bruno.”
There was a pause. “That might be a problem. Your CASPer tai chi sessions have become pretty popular. Any reason they can’t tag along? Testing your mech would be an easy explanation.”
Jackson considered. “That works, if they can be ready, but we may be gone for some time.”
“We aren’t going anywhere soon. I’ll handle it, Peacemaker. Mason out.”
* * *
Gorton System
Survey Ship Ptolemy
As the ship emerged from hyperspace, Rains fought down the queasy feeling he always had with transition. Suddenly, every alarm on the Ptolemy began screaming at once.
“Emergence Control to Ptolemy! Please clear the emergence area immediately. Relief and rescue ships are inbound to Gorton Station. A state of emergency exists in Gorton System. Emergency data is available on sub-frequency two. Information on known navigational hazards is being uploaded now. Station administration for Gorton Station is functioning on emergency channel seven. Message will repeat.”
“Acknowledged, Emergence Control. Navigational uplink confirmed. Clearing the pattern now,” said Cargill. Rains watched as he put the data for the system up on the primary screen.
“What the hell happened here?” Rains asked.
Cargill updated the display. “Look here, Peacemaker.” Ships were highlighted on the display. “There are a dozen heavy haulers in the holding pattern along with a fair amount of regular transport traffic.” Rains looked in surprise as a tactical overlay sprang to life.
“Is that targeting data?” Rains asked.
“Be prepared,” said Cargill. More areas updated. “These are debris fields.”
“Debris? From what?” said Jackson. “This looks like the aftermath of a battle.”
“Emergency channel says there was an explosion in the F11 transshipment storage.” He went pale. “My god, they’re lucky they didn’t lose the whole station.”
Rains grabbed a headset. “Can you give me emergency channel seven?” he asked. Cargill nodded then gave Rains a thumbs up.
“Gorton Station Control,” answered a calm voice.
“Gorton Control, this is Peacemaker Jackson Rains inbound aboard the Ptolemy. What assistance can we provide?”
“Peacemaker Rains, Gorton Control. We are short on medical supplies if you have any to spare, or if you happen to know who tried to blow up the station, that would be a help. Otherwise, we are well into cleanup. Docking will be delayed. Grab a spot in the pattern and we’ll get you in as soon as we can.”
Rains looked to Cargill, who gave him another thumbs up.
“Roger, Gorton Control. We’ll get together what we have available.” Rains hesitated. Worth a shot, he thought. “Can you notify Peacemaker Ravak of my arrival?”
“Peacemaker Rains, if we can find her. Peacemaker Ravak has been missing since the incident.”
“Understood Gorton Control. Thank you,” said Rains.
“Gorton Control Out.”
The Ptolemy had been a pleasant surprise. It was a midsize hauler, small enough that it had in-atmosphere capability, but large enough that a long trip wasn’t completely claustrophobic.
Captain Anderson Cargill was a small, spare man with gray hair and thick, round wireframe glasses that made him look like he was wearing goggles. He’d introduced his Pendal first officer, Deck, along with a few other members of the small crew, then explained that the cargo areas were modular and had been converted over from the crew cabins for the survey missions the Ptolemy used to make.
“Not much call for those these days,” he’d said wistfully. “For survey work we used to ship a larger crew and different science modules. People everywhere. Now it’s mostly cargo.”
Beverly DiMara and Ned Thomas had been waiting for him at the ship, as promised.
“Glad you could make it,” said Rains.
Beverly looked at him archly. “You aren’t shaking us that easy; we are making great progress on Bruno. He’s already set up in one of the cargo bays. Two hours was cutting it close!”
Rains was impressed. “I don’t know how much time I’ll have for—”
“We know the drill,” said Thomas, “but we can work onboard as well as we can here. Colonel Mason can spare us, so…”
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“Fine,” said Rains. “As long as there’s time, we can work something out.”
Once they finished docking, the airlock doors opened, and Rains stepped onto Gorton Station. Emergency lighting still flickered in the corridor, and the air smelled of burnt circuitry and the aftermath of a fire. Rains spotted a repair crew hard at work.
A Cochkala stepped forward to greet him in a no-nonsense manner. “Peacemaker Rains, I’m Station Chief Bosk. Welcome to what’s left of Gorton Station.”
Rains smiled and stepped forward. Bosk gave the impression that if he’d been Human he’d be speaking around the chewed end of a cigar. “Thank you, Chief Bosk, I’ll try to stay out from underfoot. We have a few cases of medical supplies Control requested…”
Bosk gestured to one side of the corridor. “Thank you, Peacemaker. You can have your crew leave them here, and I’ll send someone down from the infirmary to collect them presently. Control passed on your request to alert Peacemaker Ravak, but I’m afraid we still haven’t been able to locate her. Best guess is that she was aboard the Ortalis—she’s an F11 hauler that was headed for Kleve with additional cargo for the Peacemaker Guild.”
Rains nodded. “Did she check in with station control before she left?” Rains asked.
“No. We thought that was unusual, but it was the last ship out on the regular schedule before the fireworks started.”
Rains brought up Sin’Kura’s warrant on his slate and transferred it to Bosk. “Ravak was here trying to locate a Sirra’Kan named Sin’Kura. Do you know if she currently is or has been on the station?”
Bosk bounced, looking troubled, and gestured with his tail. “She’s here all right. Her ship dropped her off and left—her and two bully boys. That’s not unusual though, people come and go here all the time. Nature of the trade,” he said. “I’ll run this down with security. She should still be here unless she got out on one of the ships when we evacuated.”
“If she is,” said Rains, “please notify me at once. Tell your security not to approach her. One last thing; can you tell me where Peacemaker Ravak was staying?”
“Spacers accommodations on Level Six.” He gestured to a bank of lifts with his tail. “Take those up. The hotel is across the corridor from the lifts. You can’t miss it.”
“Thanks, Chief,” said Rains, heading for the bank of lifts. “I’ll be in touch. If anything comes up or there is anything we can help with, let me know.”
Bosk made an affirmative gesture and turned away, already working on his slate.
Rains made his way to the hotel and checked in with the clerk at the desk. Yes, Peacemaker Ravak had a room here. No, she hasn’t checked out, and yes, Rains could have the key on his authority as a Peacemaker as long as he signed for it. There was no way the clerk was going to risk problems with management.
Rains made his way to Ravak’s room, drawing his sidearm. He cautiously opened the door. Empty.
After he was satisfied that he was the only one there, Rains holstered his weapon and did a quick search of the room that yielded little. Like most Peacemakers, Ravak traveled light. There was a go-bag, up-sized for a Besquith, but otherwise almost identical to Rains’. A spare uniform that looked like it had just come back from the hotel cleaners hung in the closet, and there was a fast-charge plate for her slate and a holo of Ravak with another Besquith and pups sitting on the nightstand.
Then she’s still on the station, thought Rains. She wouldn’t have left her things behind on purpose. The other option wasn’t a good one.
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I should get a message off to Amos, Rains thought. He was planning on taking some leave to visit Earth for Sabine’s birthday…It might be better if I stay away for the time being.
He sent a quick message to Amos and the Cajuns and promised himself he’d follow up with a lengthier message the first chance he got.
His comm chimed. “Rains.”
“Peacemaker Rains, Chief Bosk. I went over the security feeds, and you’re not going to like it. Peacemaker Ravak was on the Ortalis. So were Sin’Kura and her two friends, but the Ortalis filed a change of flight plan with Gate Control. They didn’t go to Kleve.”
Rains headed for the door. “Where did they go?”
“Karma.”
Why would they go to Karma with a presumably captive Peacemaker? Rains wondered.
He was still trying to work it out when the room behind him exploded.
* * * * *
Chapter Four
15 Years Ago
Jackson, Mississippi, Earth
The plant crashed to the floor. Startled, Max, their old tabby, ran up the side of the sofa, vaulted past the coffee table, and made a beeline for the safety of his lair beneath Jackson’s parent’s bed. Jackson’s baseball rolled innocently across the room to rest in a corner of the kitchen. Jackson froze in place, not daring to breathe.
“Jackson!” yelled his mother from her office. “What are the rules about playing catch?”
How did she know? Jackson thought. “Not in the house,” Jackson called back. “Sorry, Mom!”
Jackson could hear his mom speaking to someone in her office. She must be on a call. The voices stopped and Sahana Rains poked her head out the door. “Anything broken?” she asked.
“No. I just knocked over the plant,” Jackson said, setting the Ficus tree on its base and scooping the spilled soil back into the pot. “It isn’t hurt.”
“Lucky for you, mister,” said his mom, mock-cross as she came into the living room to take a closer look. “Miss Nancy gave me that plant.” She was talking about her best friend Nancy Bellam. “You would have had to explain to her how it came to look like an old, broken stick.” Somehow his mother’s clipped, almost British accent made even a mild scolding seem worse.
Where Jackson’s father was short with a heavy build that Jackson hoped he would grow into as he got older, his mother was tall and thin. His father called her “elegant” and said she was one of those people who looked good no matter what, an attribute that made her a favorite when the medical center needed someone to attend conferences and fundraisers.
She looked dubiously at the plant. “We’re going to need more soil. After you vacuum up the rest of your mess, what do you say we go pick some up at the little shop across the park and grab an ice cream on the way back?”
“Really?” asked Jackson.
“Really,” said his mom. “Now finish up while I get changed. I’m not going to the park in scrubs.”
Jackson cleaned up the small amount of soil he hadn’t been able to put back into the pot, then grabbed his ball and glove and his Mockingbirds cap. He looked at the ball again and smiled, remembering.
It was top of the ninth inning and the Generals were at bat. The bases were loaded with two batters out and the Mockingbirds were up by two runs.
The next batter stepped up to the plate. There were calls “Get ‘im, Lankey!” and the usual chorus of “Hey, batter, batter, sa-wing, batter!”
Jackson and his father were on the edge of their seats. “Come on guys!” yelled Jackson.
The Generals players led the bases.
The wind up. The pitch. The swing! “Stee-rike!” said the umpire.
The crowd roared! Rains’ father clapped his hands and yelled, “That’s how we do it, boys! One more out! One more!”
The players reset. Lankey set up on the pitcher�
��s mound. The next pitch. The Generals player leaned in looking like he was going to hammer the ball. The player on third base charged home plate.
Passed ball!
The ball went to the screen. The catcher snagged the ball and threw it to the pitcher at the plate. The stealing player slid toward home!
“Safe!” yelled the umpire.
The crowd erupted again. “Hey, ump! You need glasses?” “Yer killin me!”
The crowd calmed down but still kept up a steady stream of catcalls.
The pitch. Crack! Pop fly! The first baseman moved in. The Generals player on third pounded toward home plate! The ball would be foul unless…Yes! The first baseman caught the ball! Third out!
Jackson ran down the stairs to cheer the Mockingbirds and the first baseman. “Way to go! Way to go!” Jackson screamed. The first baseman looked into the crowd with a wave, then, with a big smile, gave the ball an easy toss.
Straight to Jackson.
Jackson’s mother came out of the bedroom wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. She saw Jackson waiting on the couch. “Leave the ball and the glove here,” she said.
“Aww…” said Jackson.
“You can hit the playground for a while later if you want, but I have another call this evening. I have the morning off tomorrow; we can play some catch then.”
Jackson and his mother headed out. The hospital and university were part of an all-in-one community. They left the apartment and followed the path around the wooded area, then stopped at the small garden shop where Sahana selected a bag of soil for delivery to the apartment and charged it to their account.
“Do you want to go to the playground?” she asked as she bought their ice creams from a man at the stand.
“No,” he said. “Let’s go exploring!”
“Exploring it is,” his mother said, smiling.
They spent the next couple hours wandering through the boundary woods of the park while Jackson climbed over and through the maze of rocks and hunted for crayfish in the small stream that ran through the woods. As the sun dipped lower, motes of light danced through the golden beams reaching toward the low groundcover.
