by Matt Novotny
Remmy climbed into the tow truck. “Remember, not a word about the toy,” he said to Guidry. “It’s a surprise.”
“Yeah, yeah. Quiet as a mouse.” Guidry waved as he got into a utility vehicle and ripped off into the woods.
The trip into New Orleans proper wasn’t too bad. The local radio twanged out classic songs from Cypress Spring. Remmy sang along as best he could.
Soon, he was pulling into a lot on Market Street across from the bakery. The place was hopping, full of cute women clad in workout clothes from the yoga studio next door. He waited patiently in line until he got to the counter. The young man greeted Remmy with a smile. “How can I help you, sir?”
“I’m here to pick up a cake for Bes Leblanc,” Remmy replied.
“Let me check on that. Anything else? Drink?” the clerk asked.
“Nah, I’ll just help myself to some water.” Remmy pointed at the water dispenser on the counter by the pastries.
The clerk nodded, then disappeared into the back. Remmy poured himself a glass of water, the ice in the dispenser scrunching as the level worked down, and he took a long pull.
“Why, if it isn’t Remington Bouchard,” a sweet voice behind him said.
Remmy choked, some of the water going down the wrong pipe. A tanned, well-manicured hand passed him a napkin as he sputtered. Regaining his composure, he turned to face her.
“Charlotte Devereaux, you are going to be the death of me.” Remmy smiled. Charlotte Devereaux was the beauty from Remmy’s high school. The girl everyone wanted to date, but everyone was too intimidated to actually get to know her. Remmy had been in that category until their senior year, when he ran into her at a school dance. The music was playing, and she was out on the floor by herself. Remmy’s friend Larry had always been infatuated with her, and he had tried to get Larry to go talk to her. Larry fled so Remmy took up the challenge and went to dance with Charlotte Devereaux. He learned that she was probably the loneliest girl in the school and became her friend. She had never moved out of New Orleans, but once she started dating one of the artist bad boys from the college, she and Remmy had drifted apart.
And here she was, standing in a floral print sundress, auburn hair, and sparkling blue eyes crinkled in mischief. “What brings you into the city, Mister Bouchard?”
“Well, Miss Devereaux, if you must ask, I am here on a noble quest.” Remmy smiled at the faux-formal banter they used to play at so many years ago. Oh, how he missed their endless hours of banter.
Her interest piqued, she waved at him to continue. “Do tell?”
“I do have to say, it is nice to see you again,” Remmy said, changing the subject. His heart was running away in his chest. Calm down, son. “Fancy meeting you here. You by yourself?” Remmy looked around.
“Don’t you change the subject, Remmy.” She put a hand on her hip. He was fascinated how it pulled the cotton tight to her body. She snapped her fingers. “Focus.”
Remmy turned on his thousand-watt smile. “Why, Miss Devereaux, I am focused…on the most angelic vision of all that is right with the world.”
She giggled. “Uh huh. You don’t fool me with that charm, Mister Bouchard.”
Just then, the clerk appeared with a large flat box. The clear plastic in the center showed a white cake with fuchsia lettering. “Your cake, sir.”
Remmy put the water glass in the bin for used dishes and accepted the cake. He turned to a vacant table, set the box down, and lifted the lid to check it. Charlotte slid up next to him to look at the cake.
“Happy Birthday Sabine,” Charlotte read, then looked up at Remmy. “Your noble quest?”
He flushed under her intense scrutiny. “Well, yes. Bes asked me to come pick it up for the party.” He quickly closed the lid, making sure to not damage the cake.
She tilted her head and pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Is that this weekend? I was wondering what Bes was inviting me over for.” She smiled at Remmy’s surprise.
“Ah, then I guess I’ll see you there.” He picked up the cake. “I should probably get.”
His surprise continued when she started walking with him. She darted in front of him and pulled open the large brass and glass door for him. “Why, thank you,” he said, inclining his head.
She did a slight curtsy and let out a silvery laugh. Man, he missed her. Outside, he spotted an old blue Jeep with big knobby tires. A German Shepherd yipped excitedly from the back.
“You still have the Jeep, and is that Lafitte?” Remmy said in amazement.
“Yes, I still have my dad’s Jeep. It is more reliable than any man I know.” Remmy was startled at her bitter tone and shot her a sidelong glance.
“I hope that isn’t directed at me,” Remmy said softly.
She gave a rueful laugh. “No, Remmy. Not you.” She turned to him as a thought came to her suddenly. “What are you doing—”
A loud crash from across the street caused both of them to turn. A disheveled man had fallen into a couple of trash bins, knocking them over. Remmy recognized him from the Olympics.
“Ah hell, Lem. What have you gotten into?” Remmy said softly.
“You know him?” Charlotte asked, astonished.
Remmy sighed. “Yeah, and I should go help him.” He turned to head across the street.
“Remmy—” He stopped. “Um…good luck with your friend,” she said weakly. He nodded.
“It was good to see you, too.” Remmy watched as she got into the Jeep and drove off. For a moment, Remmy stared after her until a noise behind him brought him back to the present.
“Hang on, Lem,” Remmy said, sliding the cake onto the hood of the truck. Then he helped the man out of the gutter and got him back onto his feet.
* * * * *
Chapter Six
Survey Ship Ptolemy
Hyperspace
The Ptolemy left Gorton Station and headed for Karma. Rains slept through the entirety of the first day in transit, got cleaned up, had a quick bite to eat, and caught up to Bev and Thomas in one of the cargo spaces. Bruno was suspended in a framework of cargo bungees attached to the hard points of the CASPer and a series of small cargo winches.
“What on Earth are you two doing?” Rains asked.
“You don’t like our test rig?” Bev replied. “It was Captain Cargill’s idea. The bungees keep Bruno suspended in zero G and provide resistance. We can vary the resistance by adjusting the different strands with the winches.” Bev adjusted the controls, and Rains could see the bungees increase or decrease tension. “Of course, it works better when we have our test pilot.”
“All right, all right, I can see where this is going,” said Rains and climbed into the CASPer.
“Bruno likes you,” Bev teased. “Thomas and I don’t get nearly as good results as you. On the bright side, we’re almost done. The haptic calibration is solid, and we’ve been able to eliminate the interference from the C&C module.”
“Yeah,” Thomas chimed in. “As a command net package, the C&C capabilities would be a big help. I don’t know who designed them, but other than the hardware problems, the computer package is top notch.”
“Okay, Peacemaker, start out slow. Button him up, and we’ll take him through his paces.”
Jackson sealed up Bruno, and his eyes adjusted to the illumination as the enhanced Tri-V displays came up. For a moment, he was back on Snowmass facing Thraff in Deathangel before Lucille had taken over and cut his strings like a puppet. Lucille provided a safety net, but she made him nervous too. I need to be able to depend on my own skills.
“Ready, Jackson?” asked Bev.
“Ready.” Time to focus and stop wool gathering.
Rains ran through the simple range-of-motion exercises they performed at the beginning and end of each test. He then started into his tai chi forms, as well as he was able considering the CASPer’s lack of flexibility. The process got smoother as they repeated it.
“Okay, that’s good! We’re going to try increasing tension through a few
of the moves,” said Thomas.
“Hey, Ned, you see that?” asked Bev.
“Yeah, there’s another subsystem in there. Why didn’t we see that before?”
“Jackson, I want you to bring the jets online at their lowest setting.”
Rains nudged the flight controls and small ports opened in Bruno’s armor. Jets sparked to life, slamming the CASPer into the frame, snapping the bungees, and sending the mech bumping around the bay. Inside Bruno, Rains fought the controls. The Tri-V displays changed configuration. A banner read, “Assault Mode Engaged.” Rains snapped off the jet controls and Bruno stabilized with a burst of micro-jets, hovering for a moment before settling onto the deck and activating magnets in the CASPer’s boots.
Rains popped the hatch. “Is everybody okay?”
Bev and Thomas were hugging, spinning like idiots.
“Wooooo hoooo!” Bev yelled. “Did you see that? Did you?”
“I saw a glitch about kill you two. What are you going on about?” asked Rains.
“Remember we told you Bruno had oversized jets? Extra recoil compensators on the MACs? That he was a freight train?” Bev asked.
“Yes, I remember most of that,” Rains said cautiously.
“We thought it was an extended hover mode or maybe for rapid response. It wasn’t. There’s a whole subsystem we missed because it never activated when we were testing on the ground.”
“He’s not a freight train?” asked Rains.
“In a gravity well, he absolutely is, but that wasn’t what he was made for. In zero G, Bruno is an artist! A dancer!” Bev exclaimed, her excitement clearly showing.
“Very poetic. You two have been around Cargill too long. Someone want to tell me what that means?” Rains asked.
“Bruno,” said Bev, drawing it out, “was designed and optimized for zero G.”
* * *
As they cleared the emergence area, Rains nodded to Cargill.
“Scanning the system now,” he said. Technically, pinging away with active sensors was bad manners; it tended to make people jumpy. Rains didn’t care. If the Ortalis was here, he wanted to know about it now.
Cargill shook his head. Nothing.
“Keep looking,” Rains said.
“Emergence Control to Ptolemy, you are instructed—”
Jackson had had enough of the Cartography Guild. “This is Peacemaker Jackson Rains aboard the Ptolemy. I’m in Karma System investigating a potential threat to Karma Station. You are ordered to respond with any information you may have on the freighter Ortalis. My credentials are attached along with the pertinent contract sections.”
“Acknowledged, Peacemaker. Gate transit transcripts for the Ortalis are forthcoming.”
Vannix looked at Jackson from the reflection of one of the consoles. “Have you considered entering a system and not screaming ‘I’m here?’ You might have fewer surprises that way.”
Rains’ shoulder and ribs reminded him she was probably right, but it was too late now. He’d have to do better down the road.
He repeated his message, this time to Karma Station.
“Peacemaker Rains, please be advised we are currently involved in a salvage operation regarding the Ortalis. The ship is derelict. There are no crew or passengers aboard. Looks like it’s been stripped of cargo.”
“Got it.” Cargill pointed to a new indicator on the display. “Edge of the system.”
“No crew, Karma Station?” Rains asked.
“No one, Peacemaker Rains. The ship is empty.”
“Karma Station, your salvage is acknowledged. Please pull your crews off until the ship has been searched for explosives. Until such search is made and confirmed do not bring the Ortalis near the station.”
“Copy, Peacemaker. Welcome to Karma Station. Do you need docking instructions?”
“Affirmative, Karma. Thanks for the welcome,” said Rains.
That was it, thought Rains. Sin’Kura must have had a ship waiting. They transferred the F11, abandoned the ship, and probably spaced the crew. The question is, did they take Peacemaker Ravak with them or…
The answer came the next day in a message from Chief Bosk.
“Peacemaker Rains.” The Cochkala looked haggard, fur unkept. Haunted.
I know that look. Rains braced for bad news.
“We conducted a search as you requested. No explosives were found. I’m sorry to report that we found the remains of Peacemaker Ravak in one of the lockers. We also located two Besquith pups in an adjoining locker. Peacemaker Ravak tore out her own fur and forced her body against the partition to prevent the air from escaping the compartment where the pups were. She died saving them. Doctor Ulmesh says the pups will make a full recovery. I’ve attached the reports. I’m not sure what kind of monster you are chasing out there, Peacemaker, but when you catch them, I hope you make it hurt. Bosk Out.”
Rains closed his eyes and tried to force the guilt away. There was nothing else I could have done. He put together a message to the Peacemaker Guild to have the pups picked up as soon as possible and locate Ravak’s mate. That information should be in her file, he thought. Rains tagged the message priority and copied Hak-Chet, then sent a reply to Bosk letting him know what to expect. He included a hefty credit transfer. The least I can do is cover anything they need until we can pick them up. We need to take care of our own.
He thought about what Bosk had said. “I hope you make it hurt.”
“I hope so, too.”
* * *
Sanctuary Plantation
Louisiana, Earth
Sabine aimed the little boat, full throttle, toward the group of blue crabs basking in the sun at the base of one of the bald cypresses. It had rained the night before, and the smell of fresh water and wet grass filled the air at Sanctuary.
“I’m gonna get you, Xiq’tal!” Sabine yelled. As the boat came closer, she turned the craft abruptly, spraying the crabs with a long rooster tail of water, sending them scurrying into the bayou. Then she turned the boat back toward the nearer shore. Her stuffed crab Sebastian was riding the bow of the craft, its claws tucked under a strap as if holding on for dear life.
“Now, Sabine, you gonna get Sebastian all wet again, and we’ll be all day tryin’ to get that smelly water out o’ him,” Bes scolded from behind her. “You bring him in now, you heah?”
“Okay, Nana Bes. Me an’ Sebastian are holding off a Xiq’tal invasion,” Sabine said, moving the controls on the remote to bring the toy boat into a soft landing on the beach where she was standing.
“I see that,” said Bes. “Your Daddy would be proud! You are growin’ up so fast.” Bes watched as the willowy girl unfastened Sebastian from the boat, then ran toward her, red hair flying in all directions. Bes brushed the hair from Sabine’s wide, brown eyes. “You spendin’ too much time in the sun; you’re gettin’ all freckled! I remember my Louie was da same way; brown as a nut.” Bes pulled Sabine in for a quick hug. “Soon you be taller than your Nana,” she murmured into the top of Sabine’s wild mane. Bes held up a handful of red hair. “Ms. Marcy be here. You still sure ‘bout this?”
Sabine broke out in a huge smile. “She’s here? I’m sure!”
Bes smiled at Sabine’s excitement. “Well den, why don’ you let me have Sebastian and run along to the house. She’s waitin’ for you on da porch. I’ll be along presently.”
Sabine hugged Bes again, then pushed Sebastian into Bes’ arms. “Thanks, Nana. You’re the best!” Sabine took off for the house at a dead run.
Bes watched her go, then walked past the arena grounds. Four Olympian CASPers holding poles supporting a canvas pavilion had been parked in the open area in front of Amos’ cook house. Tables beneath the pavilion were decorated in blue and silver, waiting for the party guests to arrive. A banner that read “Happy Birthday Sabine!” was stretched between Black Widow and Sandman.
Greasy waved. He had popped the maintenance hatch on Black Widow and was pointing out various modifications to Bev DiMara and Ned
Thomas. Snatches of their conversation drifted across the dining area.
“The nanotube web spins out of this capacitor disk when it’s fired, very thin and light. When the capacitor hits the target, it discharges though the web and puts a beat down on electronics. All our stuff is shielded with a grounding circuit,” Greasy said.
Bev nodded. “But how do you compensate for…”
Bes smiled and waved back, but there was no way she wanted to get involved in that conversation. Greasy would talk your ear off about those machines, and Bev and Ned were two more peas in the same pod. It was nice that Jackson had brought friends down, and they seemed like good people.
She headed toward the cookhouse. Amos, as usual, was bustling about the kitchen. He took the lid off a sizzling pan and scooped something fried into a bowl. “I sure hope you invited enough folks, Bes. Sabine’s got me cookin’ for an army.” Amos laughed. He flipped new hunks of battered meat into the pan, and Bes heard the sizzle as a wave of spices reached her on the steam. Her mouth watered.
“Is dat gator?” she asked.
“Sure is,” said Amos, lifting a towel and presenting a bowl of golden-brown nuggets. “I’m trying a new recipe. Breaux and Fontenot caught ‘im yesterday.” Bes took a nugget, blew on it to cool it, then popped it into her mouth, savoring the crunch of the batter and the juice of the perfectly cooked meat.
“Ooh, dat good Amos,” Bes said. “You don’t cook gator for my birthday.”
“That cause you don’t ask.” He laughed. “Plus, we’d need a fire team on standby for your cake.” He grinned.
Bes tucked Sebastian under one arm and snagged a handful of steaming gator from the bowl before turning toward the open door, munching. “You keep talkin’, Mr. Delacroix. You gotta sleep sometime.”
