Starship Repo

by Patrick S. Tomlinson

  First took a moment to digest this. “So…” she ventured. “You want me to repossess aircars for you?”

  “Oh, my dear, no. You must widen your gaze. Here, we do starship repo.”

  First’s eyes brightened. “Starships?”

  “Starships.”

  “Like, entire starships?”

  “A fleet and growing,” Jrill said pridefully.

  “I wasn’t lying last evening when I said I came from more humble beginnings,” Loritt said. He resumed picking at his salad. “But you were half right about me. I live very well. So do the rest of my people. But we don’t live off the labors of those below us. We feast on the carcasses of those above. Ten percent repo fees on half-billion-credit starships buys a lot of nice things. Does that sound like something you’d be interested in?”

  Loritt didn’t need to be an expert on human emotions to recognize the unique blend of fury and avarice fighting for dominance across First’s face. That he could spot on any race from anywhere in this galaxy, and maybe any other.

  “I thought you might be. We’re in need of a tunneler and a dazzler. There’s no formal job description or employee training manual, however. Everyone has to be adaptable. Everyone is accountable, even me. You’re going to have to learn as you go, I’m afraid.”

  The human girl crossed her arms. “Six months ago, I stepped off a transport with just the clothes on my back, no contacts, and less than enough local currency to buy a burger. Now I’m here. I’m a quick study.”

  “I don’t doubt it. I do make one demand of you, however.”

  “Only one?”

  “One for now,” Loritt said. “I suspect others will crop up along the way, in your case. Working for me means you’re legitimate. All your little schemes, hustles, and side projects end immediately. We are a bonded, insured, and, above all, completely legal organization. If I catch word of your running so much as that little cup game of yours on an idle Hole Day, you’re out.”

  First turned this over in her mind for a moment before answering.

  “Cool. When do I start?”

  Loritt’s Lividite infiltration expert appeared out of nowhere, as he often did, and hoisted a handheld. “Sorry to interrupt, boss, but a contract just came through the conduit.”

  “Hashin, are you familiar with doorbells at all?” Jrill asked.

  “I’m paid to go around them.”

  “You”—First jabbed an accusing finger at Hashin—“got me pooped on.”

  “Yes…” Hashin said. “Sorry about that.”

  “First, this is Hashin,” Jrill said. “Hashin, First. We’re all going to be friends or die trying.”

  “Back to this contract,” Loritt said hopefully. “Closed?”

  “Open.”

  “Glot.” Loritt pushed his plate aside, suddenly relieved of an appetite. “Let’s see the job, then.”

  Hashin nodded and set his handheld down on the counter, then transferred the stream to the penthouse’s OS. Without prompt, the lights dimmed and the windows overlooking the patio went black, replaced by a slowly rotating hologram of a Transom Shipyards Celestial Schooner christened the Space for Rant. Twelve decks stacked from bow to stern, Class III high-space-rated fold engines, twenty-four staterooms, a formal dining galley, swimming pools in both water and liquid methane, even a hangar for a pair of reentry-rated luxury aircars.

  First whistled long and low at the last bit. “Can my cut of the job be one of those?”

  “We’ll discuss payment later,” Loritt said. “Who’s the delinquent owner? What’s their story?”

  Hashin scrolled deeper into the dispatch. “He’s a Sulican. Bit of a playboy. Apparently, his dead parents cut him off from the inheritance via simulcron last year, and his little pleasure yacht has been falling behind on payments ever since.”

  “Simulcron?” First tried and failed not to sound embarrassed for asking.

  “High-end virtual intelligence,” Hashin replied without judgment. “Legally binding ghosts built off his parents’ brain maps. A way to impose their judgments on his behavior from beyond the beyond. Apparently, their simulcrons don’t approve of his choices of late and decided to twist off the taps to teach him a lesson in humility, but he ignored it.”

  “Which is where we come in,” First said.

  “Which is where we come in on behalf of his creditors,” Loritt corrected her. “That pleasure yacht does not belong to him. He’s stolen it. It’s our job to steal it back for our clients.”

  “Out of purely idle speculation,” First said innocently, “how much is that yacht worth?”

  “Two hundred and seventy million Assembly standard credits at current exchange rates,” Hashin said dispassionately. “A small job, but worth a day’s labor.”

  First, despite her internal skeletal structure, appeared to melt into a flesh puddle.

  “We’ve lost the rookie,” Jrill said.

  “She’ll recover,” Loritt said. “You did, after all. However, our central problem remains. How do we beat Soolie’s people to the punch down at the docks?”

  First perked up at the name. “You can’t. They’re already there.”

  Everyone’s gaze turned to the human. “I’m sorry,” Loritt said, “but what was that you said?”

  “Soolie the Fin? His people own the docks. Where do you think I was taking your Proteus?” First asked.

  “You work for Soolie the Fin?” Jrill said, her head crest rising.

  First squared off against her. “I don’t work for Soolie. I sell to Soolie. I boost aircars, he buys them. That’s it.”

  Jrill’s red irises grew two sizes. “Why that karking, double-dipping, two-faced—”

  Loritt put up a hand to interrupt the growing diatribe, no matter how entertaining it would prove to be. “First. Do you mean to say you’ve … been in an illicit business relationship with Soolie the Fin?”

  “I just said that, didn’t I?”

  “I suppose you did. That complicates things.”

  “The hell it does. I told you I don’t work for him. I sell cars to his goons. Cash in hand, no contracts, no commitments.”

  Loritt smiled at the very young human. Still so new to the worlds. “I doubt very much he will see your story from the same perspective. Still, this is good intel. Soolie pretends at legitimacy. We can leverage this against him. Quietly, of course. Certainly enough to get you released from your contract.”

  “There was never any contract,” First snapped. “I work alone.”

  “I’m sure you believe that, just as he wanted you to,” Loritt said. “Out here, contracts don’t have to be agreed to by both parties.”

  First grew quiet. A first for her.

  “That explains a lot, boss,” Jrill said. “If Soolie has people down at the docks with advance warning of contracts coming in, they can throw the ropes over and be in line before any of the other crews have even gotten our boots on.”

  “So,” Loritt said. “We can’t wait for Space for Rant to dock at Junktion. We have to intercept it in high-space, so when the moorings are cast over and Soolie’s rented hands swarm the gangplanks, we already control the bridge. Do we have the flight plan they logged with Space Traffic Control?”

  Hashin nodded. “Right here in the bundle, boss.”

  “Then the three of you need to get to the Goes Where I’m Towed, double time. First, you’ll have to make your introductions with the rest of the team en route to the intercept point. Jrill will be your chaperone for this mission. You will follow her instructions.”

  “Oh, come on.”

  “That’s how it is. Take my car down to the docking port. It’s the fastest way.”

  “I’m driving,” Jrill said.

  “Shotgun!” First claimed.

  “Absolutely no weapons,” Loritt said.

  “No, it’s means I get the front passenger seat.”

  “Sorry, humie,” Hashin said. “Seniority rules in the Subassembly. You’re taking the backseat.”
r />   CHAPTER 5

  First extricated herself from the back of the Proteus. As luxurious as the front two seats were, the backseat had been incorporated only as a polite fiction for insurance purposes so the Infinite technically counted as a four-seat family coupe instead of a purebred sports aircar. First wasn’t very big, but she was still far too big to fit in the rumble seat in any comfort.

  “Where are we?” she asked, rubbing her lumbar.

  “Bay Ninety-Four,” Hashin answered. “Boss’s personal docking slip. This is where we keep the Goes Where I’m Towed.”

  Jrill stalked off toward the airlock. “C’mon, the others are already inside. We need to clear moorings and push off.”

  “In what?” First asked, looking out on the bay through a viewing gallery.

  “In that.” Hashin pointed at a ship so nondescript, her eyes sort of slid off it.

  “What’s that, the box it came in?”

  “You laugh.”

  “So will everyone else when they see us pull up in that.”

  “They won’t—that’s the point. Come along, little mushroom.”

  First just shook her head and followed the Lividite through the airlock and down the All-Seal boarding tube. Once inside, First’s impression of the ship jumped an order of magnitude. Its construction was robust, with double the frame members and internal bracing she’d seen on other transports, of which there had been several on her journey to Junktion. It was also spotlessly maintained and well equipped. It was no pleasure craft, though. Redundant fire suppression systems and frequent lockers for emergency oxygen canisters studded the hallways.

  “Okay, this is more like it,” First said. “Don’t judge a book, eh?”

  “Why shouldn’t you judge books?” Hashin asked.

  “By its cover. Don’t judge a book by its cover. Sorry, it’s a human expression. It means a ratty-ass cover doesn’t mean the story inside is bad.”

  Hashin leaned against a frame member. “Describe this book’s ‘cover.’ Length, beam, layout, color, hull registry numbers.”

  First smiled. Her living, indeed her very survival was dependent on her powers of observation. She noticed everything out of reflex, the way other people breathed.

  Which was why when she went to the wellspring of her memory expecting a fountain and found it dry, she stood speechless for several stunned seconds.

  “I can’t,” she said at last.

  “Exactly. So undistinguished, our novelty-obsessed brains see no reason to devote precious memory to it. Weaponized mediocrity. My people invented it. I perfected it.”

  “How do you remember where it’s parked?”

  “I have an app. Come, meet the rest of the crew.”

  They took an exposed lift deeper into the bowels of the ship, past the point where paneling gave way to exposed conduits and pipes. Off the guided tours, then.

  “These are the engineering levels. This is Sheer’s domain. She’s … ah, particular about her work.”

  “Sheer?” First asked. “Like a pair of scissors or see-through lingerie?”

  They stepped off the lift into what could only be described as a lair. At its center was an antimatter annihilation reactor and one of the largest, and thereby oldest, Ish First had ever seen. Her left foreclaw had grown to grotesque proportions, nearly two meters long.

  “So scissors, then,” First whispered.

  “Don’t draw attention to her claw.”

  “But don’t only the male Ish grow big claws like—”

  “That line of questioning is an excellent way to get both of us snipped in half like gift ribbon. She’s complicated; just go with it.”

  First swallowed hard as they stepped off the lift.

  “Who’s the chum?” Sheer chittered out of her mouthparts.

  “Sheer, this is First. She’s our new hacker,” Hashin said diplomatically.

  “First, huh? Is that supposed to be a joke? We’ve gone through three tunnelers since I’ve been down here.”

  “This one might stick,” Hashin said. “First, shake claw with our resident wrench-turner, Sheer.”

  “Pleasure.” First stuck her hand out, hoping to come back with more than a stump.

  Sheer’s eyes regarded her from atop their stalks for a long moment before offering a claw. Her smaller claw. “Just keep your fingers out of my ship’s operating system and we’ll get along fine.”

  “Is that a common problem?”

  “Oh yes. Software engineers, always trying to fix things that aren’t broken. Took me two weeks to track down the line of code the last one inserted that made Towed think other ships were hitting on her whenever someone hailed us.”

  First scratched her head. “Why didn’t they fix it themselves?”

  “Because they were dead.”

  “Dead?!” First blurted out.

  “That’s an exaggeration,” Hashin hastened to add. “None of us actually saw them die.”

  “That’s true, I guess,” Sheer said. “We saw them get swallowed whole by a buzzmouth and not come out again. The dying part is just speculation on my part. Anyway, I’m sure you’ll be fine. You look like a capable … whatever you are.”

  “I’m human!” First insisted. “From Earth?”

  “Of course you are. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a constriction bottle diagnostic to finish before three hundred quilpies of antimatter break loose and annihilate us all.”

  Sheer turned back around to attend to her monitors. The introduction over, Hashin returned to the lift, beckoning First to follow.

  “You didn’t tell me the last hacker died on the job. That’s a detail I would’ve liked to have known.”

  “Or you would’ve turned yourself in to security?”

  “Well … no, but still.”

  “They weren’t technically on the job at the time, if that helps. We were taking a little break between contracts to do some deep-sea fishing.”

  First stared at the little gray man. “You were fishing for things called buzzmouths? How is that relaxing?”

  “Well, I was on a double dose of Leisuretol, so I could’ve relaxed inside an active volcano. Everyone else seemed to be enjoying the sun.”

  “You’re all nuts.”

  “The boss likes to party. Up next is the command cave.”

  “You mean the bridge?”

  “Does it connect two points of land across a waterway?”

  “No?”

  “Then no, I didn’t mean a bridge.”

  “So literal.”

  The doors opened onto what would very appropriately be called a cave. The ceilings were low, even for First, who wasn’t terribly tall to begin with. The crew stations were cramped with consoles and equipment with little thought given for comfort or to stave off claustrophobia. This was no pleasure craft. It was a predator of pleasure craft.

  First was starting to dig it.

  “And here is the final member of our little bunch.” Hashin held out a hand to a familiar-looking jar plugged into the very center of the cave. “First, this is our pilot, Fen—”

  “Fenax,” she finished for him. “We’ve met.”

  “No, we haven’t,” the floating brain said without turning around. Seriously, where were its eyes? How did it see anything?

  “Yes, we did. Six months ago. You were working at McDonald’s. You collect alien currencies.”

  “That was a different Fenax.”

  “Oh, come on. How many of your people named Fenax can there be on this station?”

  Hashin tapped First on the shoulder. “They’re all named Fenax. It’s their race name.”

  “Oh.” It took a moment for the depth of her mistake to sink into First’s awareness. “Oooooh, shit…”

  “I wouldn’t worry too much about it,” Jrill said from what looked like the captain’s chair. “They can’t tell us quad-limbs apart for glot, either. Probably thinks you’re an Illcarion.”

  “It’s not?” Fenax asked.

  Jrill held out
a clawed hand. “See?”

  “Do Illcarions look particularly human?” First asked.

  “No, not really. The Fenax come from between thermal cloud layers of a gas giant. Way down below where light reaches, other than lightning strikes. They see with sound, air pressure disturbances. They can see and manipulate magnetic fields, too. Why we had to stop using magnetic strip cards.”

  “What did you expect us to do?” Fenax asked. “You may as well have written your pass codes and bank account information on your foreheads. We thought you were being exceptionally generous. We never had a concept of money or private ownership before. It was an honest mistake.”

  “Anyway,” Jrill continued. “When it comes to piloting a starship in open space, it’s hard to beat a species that evolved from single cells to sentience floating in three dimensions.”

  First raised a hand. “But if they evolved in clouds…”

  “Yeah.”

  “And there wasn’t any ground below them…”

  “Yeeah.”

  “Then how did they mine metal or ceramics to build starships?”

  “Ah,” Jrill said, understanding. “They didn’t. Some unlicensed helium-3 miners accidently sucked one up through a gas siphon and kept it as the ship’s mascot for a couple of months until it mapped out the ship’s control systems and took over the central computer. Killed everyone aboard, then went back and filled the helium bladders with more Fenax. Kinda got outta hand for a few centuries after that. Had to give them a seat on the council just to get them to stop stealing every starship they came across. That’s why it’s easier to let them be the pilot from the get-go.”

  “That is a largely accurate, if incomplete, recitation of historical events,” Fenax said without emotion.

  “Got it,” First said. “I’ll just sit down over here, if that’s okay.”

  “Anywhere is fine as long as you keep out from underfoot.”

  “Thanks a lot.” First plopped down in an open seat on the periphery of the cave.

  “Buckle in,” Hashin said. “Company health insurance doesn’t cover injuries sustained from stupidity.”