by Gun Brooke
Crying now, 833 desperately wished she had been able to help someone escape. Everything had happened so fast. She thought of the little children, some of them small enough to be unspoiled by their parents’ wealth, and how they would never have a chance to grow up and find their way in life. They would have had all the advantages she never did.
Something slammed into the pod and sent it spinning. It took a few moments before the gyroscope righted the micro vessel again, but when it did, it seemed as if the systems were intact. She had life support, and the pod traveled fast, leaving the war zone.
As hours passed and the pod traveled farther and farther from the broken ship and its enemies, 833 made a vow. If she survived this catastrophe, she would seize every opportunity to make a different life, a better life, for herself. She had no idea where the pod was destined to go but knew the ship had been at least eighteen lunar years away from the closest Territory colony. Traveling in the micro vessel would make that journey even longer. No matter where she ended up, 883 would never admit to being a slave. The steps she had to take to ensure this designation were simple: cut out the tracker at the base of her skull and destroy it. Grow her hair. No matter where this pod was heading, she would have time to do that. A shaved head would show the markings on her scalp, but hair would cover them and any potential scar after the removal of the tracker. She would get rid of the beige coveralls that only slaves wore and don some of the emergency clothes stored in these pods.
Most important, she would forever stop thinking of herself as 833 and remember the name her mother had secretly given her. She allowed the memory to surface of how her mother had whispered it in her ear for the last time before her daughter was taken to another ship. “Your name is Moon, my darling girl. Your name is Moon de Cruz. Never forget that.”
“My name is Moon. I remember, Mama.” Moon’s voice was husky but strong. “I’ll never be a number again. My name is Moon de Cruz!”
Chapter One
Intergalactic Space
Territorial Date 6038
“Captain, we’re entering orbit in ten minutes.”
Captain Beaux Lestarion of the commercial space vessel C.C. Empress turned from the computer console by her captain’s chair. “Steady as she goes,” she said, acknowledging the words of her second in command, Veyar. She moved closer to the main view screen, looking impassively at the image of the green-and-blue lush planet before them. She hoped it would turn out to be worth the eight-month-long voyage with the motley crew of passengers she’d been forced to deal with. Corporate suits and rough miners, they’d been making ridiculous demands and causing brawls in the mess halls more often than not. She was ready to put them down on their coveted, uninhabited planet and leave them there. “How are those scans going?” Beaux turned to the ensign in charge of ops. “I want no last-minute surprises.”
“Scans show the same as before. A planet rich in minerals, ore, wildlife, and fresh water.” Ensign Callas ran quick fingers across her console.
Fresh water was a rare commodity on many planets, including their homeworld, Cimeria Prime. Whenever a company detected water on a virgin planet such as this one, that was one reason to exploit it. Add to that commodity the presence of minerals and ores capable of being developed into much-needed energy sources, and the company suits began to salivate.
“Good. Keep the short-range sensors on full,” Beaux said. “I know we’ve scanned this planet extensively, but we’ve come close to running into trouble before. We’re far from Cimeria Prime and any chance of backup.”
“I hear you, sir.” Callas nodded briskly. “I won’t let anyone catch us with our suspenders around our ankles, sir.”
Barely able to refrain from snorting at yet another one of her young ensign’s infamous sayings, Beaux kept her gaze on the slowly rotating sphere that filled more and more of the view screen. Around her, the twenty bridge-crew members carried out their tasks with their usual professionalism and expertise. Beaux had handpicked them all from the Cimerian space fleet and the private sector. Most of them had followed her willingly and without too much persuasion, but some had needed a gentle nudge or two, mainly of the monetary kind. Her crew manifest consisted of two hundred and fifty well-trained and motivated people, all of them among the best, if not the best, in their field. Beaux was a successful private agent. In fact, she had seen very little turnover. When it came to her bridge crew, regardless of shift, she never had any vacancies. She paid them well, and their work and living conditions were better than on those on any other commercial ship working in this part of intergalactic space.
“High orbit in one minute, sir,” Lieutenant Neos said from the helm.
“Thrusters only.” Beaux glanced at her console, scanning the data flickering across it. She was pretty sure they’d make high orbit without a problem, but she hadn’t forgotten the planet closest to the one they were approaching, which wasn’t livable. Instead, it boasted an unknown metal ore core that could possess unknown qualities. If it was more magnetic than their scans showed, it could interfere with their instruments and make going into orbit difficult, even dangerous.
“Keep your eyes on the data from the next planet, Ensign Callas.” Beaux sent the ensign a warning glance, but her ops officer merely nodded calmly.
“Aye, sir.”
“Entering high orbit. Thrusters only.” Neos punched in commands and maneuvered the small stick with just his index finger. The controls demanded his full attention and dexterity, but Neo was the best pilot Beaux had seen during her entire career, regardless of his youth. Now he navigated her ship into high orbit with perfection.
“Orbit reached, sir.” Neo flashed a grin over his shoulder.
“Excellent. Now we just—”
The elevator door hissed open. Beaux looked over at her two bridge security officers, who had their hands on their sidearms. Just inside the door, two men, belonging to the company-suits camp among her passengers, stood flanked by their own security.
Furious, but harnessing her anger as these were important clients, Beaux stood. “I have told you more than a few times over the last eight months that the bridge and this entire deck are off-limits to passengers, Mr. Kragh.”
“We’ve entered orbit,” Kragh, a tall, thin man with white-blond hair and pale-blue eyes, said softly. “This is my mission, Captain. I have a right to observe to make sure nothing my CEO has tasked me with is jeopardized.”
“If the CEO of Ilienta Enterprises doesn’t trust us to do our job, it seems like a gross waste of money to have us bring you here. I mean, you could have leased any space vessel and come here yourself. Leave my bridge. Now.” Beaux was not about to let this corporate lackey win.
“Sir?” One of brawny men next to Kragh moved his hand to his side. He didn’t have an energy weapon. Nobody aboard her ship was armed except the captain and her crew. Still, he could be carrying a blade or a pulse baton. The internal scanners detected unauthorized energy weapons immediately but sometimes missed other, more low-tech weapons.
Beaux’s security officers caught the movement immediately and drew their sidearms. “Hands where we can see them.” They aimed at the necks of both the guards. “Now.” Next to them, Commander Veyar kept his sidearm trained on them as well.
“This is appalling,” bellowed the other suit, a slightly shorter man, but with the same pale coloring, named Drak. “We’re paying for this, which means the ship’s practically an Ilienta vessel until we return.”
“Now, now,” Kragh said calmly. “Let’s not get carried away. Stand down,” he told his guards. “And, Drak, there’s no need to be rude. Of course this is Captain Lestarion’s ship.” He turned to Beaux, his nearly colorless eyes cold and unblinking. “Please forgive my associate. Mr. Drak is only eager to commence work after these long months. I’m sure you can understand that.”
Long months? Try eternal. Beaux didn’t return the frosty smile. “Better than you think.” She had spoken to Kragh only twice before, but he had not frat
ernized with either the other passengers or the Empress’s crew. Most of the Ilienta passengers had lived to party aboard her ship. In fact, she thought she could count on one hand the times Kragh had joined anyone in the mess hall.
“I’m sure we’ll collaborate splendidly once work is underway.” Kragh bowed while a chilling smile played on his thin lips. “At your service.”
Beaux was curious how the two suits from Ilienta Enterprises worked together. Where Drak was all bluster and drama, Kragh came off as quietly lethal. “Mr. Kragh, I suggest you go to the passenger area with your associate. We’re entering low orbit in a few minutes, and that can sometimes be a bumpy ride. Especially when it comes to unknown planets.” She didn’t take her eyes off his.
“You’re right, of course.” Kragh smiled thinly and bowed again. Beaux got the feeling that bowing didn’t sit well with him, which made her file this clearly placating gesture away for future reference.
As soon as Kragh, Drak, and their muscle had left the bridge, Beaux put them out of her mind and refocused on the task at hand. “All right, Lieutenant Neos. Start the protocols for low orbit.”
“Aye, sir.” Neos’s fingers fluttered across sensors and the multitude of levers before him. “Buckle up, everyone. We’re going in.”
Adjusting her harness in the captain’s chair, Beaux kept her eyes on her console. The data flickered by, but she knew her ship from port to stern and saw the Empress behaved impeccably under Neos’s skilled hands. The Empress slid into the low orbit as if on magnetic rails. Beaux unfastened her harness and stood. The screen showed the lush planet under the Empress’s belly.
For the first time, Beaux registered how beautiful the untouched world before her looked. She had read the reports that Ilienta Enterprises had put together from its extensive long-range scans. Ilienta owned and built the technology that allowed for in-depth scans at great distances. As contractors for the Cimerian military, they enjoyed complete freedom when it came to their own endeavors—and profit.
“Locked into low orbit at five hundred kilometers.” Neos grinned as he looked at Beaux.
“Can the Empress sustain this level without draining the reserves?” Beaux stepped up on Callas’s dais and studied the ensign’s data.
“Yes, sir. The planet’s gravity suggests this is optimal.”
“Excellent.” Beaux nodded over her shoulder at Veyar. “You have the bridge, Commander. I’ll be in the shuttle bay area, as I imagine our guests are eager to begin.”
“Aye, sir. Will you be going planetside?” Veyar moved to the center of the bridge.
“Perhaps later today. We’ll see. It all depends on how Ilienta’s crews are doing. If they run into trouble, I’d say we’ll all be down there to haul their asses back onto the ship before we know it.”
“Are you expecting problems?” Veyar frowned.
“You know me, Commander. I always assume there’ll be problems. And?”
Her next in command grinned. “And you are often right, sir.”
“Damn straight.” Beaux returned the smile briefly and then walked to the elevator. Stepping inside, she punched the sensor for the shuttle-bay deck. The octagonal car plummeted six decks down through the Empress, reaching the corridors leading to the vast area holding the shuttles. Each shuttle could take up to sixty passengers, depending on how much gear or luggage they brought. All in all, the Empress boasted four such shuttles and ten assault craft, for security. Beaux was one of the few private-transport-ship captains who would go into hostile territory—for the right price. This long haul would be her most profitable yet, and damn it, she had earned every cimero.
As Beaux exited the elevator, she had to wait until a long, double row of passengers passed her. She estimated it was about half of the miners she’d shipped across intergalactic space. The other half would enter the shuttle bay from the opposite direction. Ensign Callas had calculated that they would initially have to do two runs with the four shuttles, but when the miners and the suits had set up their base camp at their designated area, one or two shuttles for supplies and maintenance would be enough.
Beaux had decided it would be prudent to have a security detail consisting of her own crewmembers planetside, along with their own maintenance and support crew. Ten volunteers were assigned to patrol the different areas on caterpillar bikes. Powered by small hydro engines, they were quiet and fast. She knew Ilienta had brought other, less quiet, caterpillars, and Beaux felt it prudent to match their resources. As she had just stated to Veyar, partly tongue in cheek, she always expected trouble.
To an untrained eye, the cargo bay would seem like utter chaos. People hurried back and forth, the shuttles hummed with a sound Beaux found most pleasant, and last-minute crates were hauled aboard.
“Sir. We’re right on schedule.” A tall, burly man tapped the computer pad in his hands with his index finger. Shuttle Master Chief Somas’s soft voice contradicted his imposing physique. He had been with Beaux when she was still in the military and had not hesitated to follow her into the private sector.
“Good.” Beaux leaned against the bulkhead as four of her cargo-bay crew rushed by carrying what looked like long, black pipes she vaguely identified as part of drilling equipment. “I think Ilienta has enough of those to drill straight through the planet.” Beaux snorted.
“Yeah. I just hope they do it quickly. I don’t know about you, but with this lot, all I want is to return home to get paid.” Somas had lowered his voice.
“No kidding. Have you spoken to Drak or Kragh?” Beaux made a face. “I just had the dubious honor on the bridge. Again.”
“That’s what I mean,” Somas murmured. “I haven’t talked to many of the suits. In fact, I make it a point to stay clear of them, but the unofficial reports I get from my subordinates—”
“You mean gossip.” Beaux smirked.
“Well, if you want to put it that way. Anyway, the suits keep to themselves, and even if I can understand that they’re mindful of corporate espionage, they’re apparently acting as if this is a life-or-death situation.”
“Hm. Perhaps it is.” Beaux didn’t mean literally, but a lot of money was at stake. That much was a given. Still, Kragh’s demeanor could give anyone with even slightly weak nerves the chills. Something about the man was just…wrong. “Jokes aside, Somas, keep your feelers out for the gossip. You and I’ve been around long enough to know that on a ship, even one as large as the Empress, the rumor mill is more efficient than official reports any day.”
“Yes, sir.” Somas tapped the corner of the thin computer pad against his temple. “I’ve got your back.”
“I know. Likewise.” Beaux made her way over to the closest shuttle that was ready to launch. Sitting with its crew in its bay, which would seal up around it before the large airlock hatch opened, the crewman in charge was ready to retract the steps. Impulsively, Beaux pulled her communicator to her lips. “Lestarion to Shuttle One pilot. Delay the launch for a minute. I’ve decided to join you.”
“Affirmative, Captain,” the calm voice of the female pilot responded. “Waiting for you to board, sir.”
Beaux paged the bridge. “Commander Veyar. I’m joining Shuttle One for its first transport. I’m not planning to stay on the planet, but I do want to take a closer look.”
After a brief pause, Veyar replied. “Can’t say I blame you, Captain.”
“I’m taking a long-range communicator and an emergency pack, just in case, though I expect to be back in six or seven hours.” Beaux walked over to some storage units by the bulkhead and pulled out a backpack that held a medical kit, survival gear, emergency rations, water, and a lightweight bivouac. From another shelf, she plucked the communication system that would allow her to contact the ship while planetside. She was always armed when they carried passengers, no matter who they were, and now she tucked more energy ampoules into the leg pockets of her pants.
As she jogged up the steps to the shuttle, she felt an unexpected rejuvenation. She had been in sp
ace for so long and stopped at only a couple of space stations, but that was four months ago. The idea of breathing fresh air and feeling solid ground under her feet caused a bewildering giddiness completely out of character for her.
Beaux joined the flight crew up front, taking one of the two available seats in the back. She knew how to operate the shuttles, but she would never insult her crewmembers by simply taking over without good reason. Strapping in, she merely nodded to the crew.
“Good to have you with us, Captain,” the first pilot said, and Beaux recognized the wiry woman who had been with her for ten years.
“I couldn’t resist a first look, Lieutenant Ashdo.” Beaux relaxed as Ashdo merely nodded amicably and then started the protocols for launching. As the large shuttle majestically slid along the magnetic rails, she looked out the small viewports between the instruments to her left. The effortless feeling of being dropped into space always amazed Beaux. As the shuttle dropped, she felt the propulsion system shift and maneuver it to head for its destination. This shuttle would transport miners to an area on the northern hemisphere that consisted of forests, lakes, mountains, and valleys. According to estimates, it would be mid-morning in the area at the site in question, which would give the miners and the crew time to make camp and secure a perimeter before nightfall.
