“New Border Station 13. There have been five deaths in five months.”
“What’s the norm? And before you roll your eyes, I know nothing about deep-space construction. Absolutely nothing.”
“The norm is zero. We don’t kill our people anymore when we’re building stuff. It takes a perfect storm times ten for something to go so wrong that someone loses their life.”
“Sounds like someone has it out for the station.” Rivka tapped one-handed, reserving the second hand for eating. “No running? No shooting?”
“No running, definitely. It’s a half-built space station. I can’t vouch for no shooting. This is you we’re talking about.”
“Thanks for that.” She looked through the case file. Chewing spiceweed. Operator error. Gruesome deaths. No injuries, just death. That piqued her interest. “I’ll take it.”
Chapter Two
Federation Border Station 7, Hangar Bay
“Jay, I have a question.” Rivka sneezed, and her eyes started to water. Strips of cloth dangled in the hatchway of her “new” ship. The former Skaine frigate had been flushed, cleaned, fumigated, and aired out.
It still smelled of Skaines.
The frigate was bigger than Grainger’s ship and required a crew. She and her team would merely be passengers, but the Magistrate would still fill the role of ship’s captain.
“I miss my mural.” Jay sauntered down the ship’s main corridor, with Floyd the wombat bouncing along behind.
“Has she lost weight?” Rivka asked without pressing Jay on the incense-laced danglies in the entry.
“This ship has so much more room to run around. Floyd is getting the most exercise she’s ever gotten.” Jay looked away from the strips Red was sniffing and making faces at.
The group stood uncomfortably, no one making a move in one direction or the other. To the right, the bridge, various billets, and work areas. To the left, the engine room.
“If no one else is going to say it,” Red started. Rivka gave him a look that suggested he shouldn’t say it either. He didn’t continue.
Jay’s peevish smile made Rivka laugh. “I love what you’re trying to do to the place.”
“I hoped you would. It still stinks in here. I don’t know what it’ll take to get the stench out.” Jay looked forlorn, like she was ready to surrender.
“That’s all I was going to say,” Red mumbled. He jumped when Lindy poked him from behind.
“Make way.” She tossed a duffle bag into the corridor, then added a second and third to the pile.
Rivka’s questioning look drew the answer she didn’t want.
“Red’s workout t-shirts and jock straps.”
“She’s kidding,” Red interjected, trying not to laugh. “We have a real gym now. Good job getting us a bigger boat, Magistrate.”
“We had to turn Peacekeeper in. I still feel bad about that.”
“Everyone remembers their first ride.” Red clapped Rivka on the back, almost slamming her into the bulkhead. “But this one is better.”
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“I am,” Ankh said from behind Jay. Floyd nuzzled his legs and nearly knocked him down. He looked up at Jay with no emotion on his face, but she knew. He didn’t like animals running around the ship. The cat, Hamlet, had been a thorn in his side, constantly vying for dominance, but Floyd was like a child.
And Crenellians had no tolerance for the inefficiency of play.
“What have you done to my ship?” Rivka jammed her fists into her hips and tried to look stern, but failed and gave up after a few moments of Ankh’s blank stare in return. He hadn’t blinked.
The small, blue-skinned alien finally listed the upgrades. “Added three miniaturized Etheric power supplies, a Gate drive, a primary plasma weapon, defensive lasers, strategic missiles, gravitic shields, integrated Chaz into the main architecture, and established my laboratory in the engine room.”
Rivka nodded appreciatively. “But what about the smell?”
Ankh ignored the question. He pushed past the group and walked to the aft end of the ship, disappearing through the hatch to his new laboratory.
“Three power supplies?” Rivka wondered.
“It’s like he upgraded us to be a battleship. You talk about me beefing up, Magistrate, but what about Ankh?” Red waved a hand in the direction of the engine room.
“I’d like to say he’s wrong about the upgrades, but we all know he’s not. We’re like the Marshall Dillon of space. Or maybe Wyatt Earp. I like that movie Tombstone.” She stared dreamily at the wall.
“Magistrate likes the bad boys,” Jay taunted before declaring, “Movie night!”
“Do we have a mission where Wyatt gets to show what he’s made of?” Red asked.
Rivka gestured her confusion.
“Wyatt Earp. Our new ride. Can’t call it Tombstone. Perps might get the wrong idea.”
“That’s how it is now? You simply name our new ship? End of discussion?”
“It fits,” Red declared.
“It does,” Jay said. “I still want to rewatch the movie.”
“Me, too.” Lindy caressed Red’s arm with tender affection. He leaned toward her, smiling.
“What do you think, Floyd?” Rivka took a knee to look the wombat directly in her small, dark eyes.
“Wheee!” She launched herself at Rivka’s face. The Magistrate caught her and stood, holding her at arm’s length and lifting her toward the ceiling. An arc of wombat puke followed the creature upward before Rivka could stop the lift and put her gently back on the deck. “Sorry.”
Floyd turned around and walked slowly away. Rivka looked at the splatter up her jacket, over her shoulder, and into her hair. “Who fed her Cheetos?”
Jay tried to look away, but Rivka caught her eye.
“Get her something for her stomach, please. I’ll be in my quarters.” She turned back to Red and Lindy, instantly all business. “Check provisions and loadout. We should have multiple mechanized combat suits on board, along with just about anything else we might need, no matter how dicey things get. We’ll be heading to the frontier. Station 13, which is under construction to be exact.”
“What about the crew?” Jay asked.
Rivka started to point to the small group in the corridor, but reality came back to her in a rush. “Clodagh, Alant Cole, Aurora, Ryleigh, and Kennedy. They’re on board and working their asses off. Between Ankh and Erasmus, their to-do lists are pretty extensive.
“We have a real crew. Chaz?”
“I’m here, Magistrate,” the AI said, using the speakers in the corridor. “I’ve been monitoring the conversations, and am here and ready for whatever you need.”
“I need a shower,” Rivka deadpanned.
“I’m afraid you’re on your own for that. I’m here for anything else. Not eating, either, really. You’ll have to feed yourselves. And workouts. That’s on you, too. Maybe I’m not here for much at all. I’ll work on my offer of assistance to better align with what I’m capable of providing.”
By the time the AI finished, no one remained in the corridor, each having gone their own way to settle in and get ready for the next case.
Federation Border Station 13 – Under Construction
The station mostly looked like the wire ribs of a great spinning top. The top third of the new station was enclosed. The main power supply was at the bottom and operational, providing the energy for the massive construction project.
Bottom being relative, but that was where the artificial gravity generation originated, replicating the weight of a planet in order to pull objects toward it. Thin at the bottom and expanding with the widest section equidistant between the pointed ends. Various hangar bays would eventually accept all but the largest freighters. Those would dock with one of four sealed gantries leading from the station’s hangar level.
It was a standard configuration for every one of the border space stations, with minor variations. The construction should have held no surp
rises. And living beings getting hurt? They weren’t involved in anything dangerous since those tasks had been relegated to bots and automated systems.
Yet, five had died. The construction superintendent stood by the window in his construction office, which was part of a mobile construction management facility. As in, a spaceship that traveled to major construction projects, whether new construction or overhaul. The ship had the tools and on-board manufacturing capability to complete nearly any job.
In this case, the smelting and major structural work were being done by a separate three-ship detachment specializing in such production, from ore extraction to refinement. The Ore Lords were first in and first out on any major construction project.
And they were ninety-nine percent automated. Easy money, since they were one of the only contractors in the entire galaxy who could handle such work. They didn’t have much left before they wrapped up and moved to their next project, but the construction superintendent had asked them to stay until the Federation investigation had time to interview them and inspect their processes.
“What a shit show,” Boran Waldin stated for the fourth time.
“You’re the safety guy on this project. What the hell is wrong with you?” The construction superintendent wasn’t amused. He put his back to the window, crossed his arms, and glared at his safety manager.
“We have the latest processes and procedures in place. The overall risk for any job undertaken by a human or alien is low. Every fucking one is low!”
“Five dead bodies suggest you’re wrong.”
Boran ran his hand through his hair. He was as upset as anyone. It was his job to ensure the safety of the crew. It was his job to make sure they were complying with procedures. It was his personal responsibility because he insisted on it.
He sat, head bowed and shoulders hunched like the defeated man he was. “I did everything right,” he mumbled into his hands, his mind racing as it had ever since the first accident, trying to figure out why. “You can have my resignation.”
“Shut your soup sucker!” the superintendent blurted. “You are going to figure this out. When the Fed’s Magistrate arrives, we’re all going to meet her at the airlock, and you’re going to escort her and her team everywhere they want to go. You’ll arrange anything they want, from casual conversations to negotiations to catered lunches, and you’ll stick with them until they’re done. If they learn anything, you’ll pass that to me as soon as possible, understand?”
“So, I’m a servant and a spy?” Boran wasn’t amused, but he had already surrendered. He accepted the premise that no one would ever hire a safety manager with five accidental deaths to his name.
“You are anything I want you to be since I’m paying you. Yes. Spy. Servant. Safety guy.”
“Superintendent.” Boran uttered the words before catching himself. “You can count on me. When does she arrive?”
“I believe it will be within the hour. Get back to the station. Meet her at Gantry Four. Until the hangar bays are completed, she’ll have to dock at an airlock.”
“She should be able to fit in Aleph. That bay is ready with contained atmosphere.”
“The Magistrate has a frigate.”
Boran slumped anew. “I guess she’ll be executing people. They wouldn’t send the big ship if they weren’t going to lay waste to the operation.” He held out his hand. “I appreciate the opportunity to work on this project. I’m sorry I failed you.”
“Fuck off,” the superintendent replied, slapping the safety manager’s hand away. “Make sure she has everything she needs. No one is going to get executed on my watch. As soon as she’s here, I’ll head over. The last few shipments of steel are in a state of flux. I need to break them free, so we can get back to work and finish this station.”
“But we’re on a safety hold because of the last casualty?”
“Then get out there and un-safety-hold it. What are you still doing in my office?”
“I’m starting to think the safety problems are you,” Boran said under his breath.
“I heard that.”
The manager hurried from the office, shutting the door after him. He continued to the shuttle dock and waited for the next automated ride. The small spaceships moved back and forth between the construction operations ship and the station. The Great Waldini didn’t have to wait at all. The shuttle he had ridden over in was still waiting. People weren’t out and about because of the work stoppage.
After the shuttle landed in Hangar Bay Aleph, Boran rushed straight for the employee assembly area. He maintained a desk there so he would always be closer to the workforce. They were the reason he was there. They had all seen that he had helped move the bodies from the scene of the accident to the freezer. He had been nearly inconsolable on those days.
Of which there had been five too many. He called up the paperwork on his computer. A box that said the investigation was concluded and identified issues rectified. All he had to do was check the box.
A simple checkmark and the crew could go back to work. He hovered his finger over the box, ready to tap it. Would five become six? He hadn’t resolved anything except to identify how bizarre the accidents have been, each unique.
All deadly.
He closed his eyes and dragged his finger over the report on the screen. The box checked. He clicked Submit and turned his system off, then put on his gear and headed into the station.
Chapter Three
Federation Space, The Frontier
Magistrate Rivka Anoa stood at the back of the bridge, the location where Colonel Christina Lowell had personally dispatched a number of Skaines. The area had been cleaned, but it was still something to think about. Rivka put her hand on the wall, but nothing spoke to her. The ship was cold and unfeeling. A tool, but also the body of the AI.
“Chaz, take us to Border Station 13, the new construction site. But not too close. I want to observe it first before we crash their party.”
“Of course, Magistrate.”
“There’s a cat on the ship,” Red said in a low voice.
“How did a cat get on the ship? Did the General send Hamlet back to us?”
“This one’s orange. And fat.”
The person sitting in the captain’s chair rotated it until she was facing aft. Lieutenant Clodagh Shortall, the engineering officer, had transferred from the War Axe with her boyfriend, Alant Cole, both on a leave of absence from the Bad Company’s Direct Action Branch. His role on Wyatt Earp was as the ship’s gopher.
“He came with me. I couldn’t leave him over there with those Neanderthals, although he did like the captain.”
Rivka nodded. “Chaz, get me Terry Henry Walton on a video call.”
A hint of fear passed across Clodagh’s face. Rivka winked, and the engineer breathed a sigh of relief.
“Magistrate. Are we going to sue somebody? Because I’m ready if need be.”
“No. What? Why would you think that? Is there something going on I need to know?”
“Oh. Sorry. I was thinking about something else. Nothing you need to worry about, but just in case, I’m glad you’re just a hop, skip, and a jump away. What can I do you out of?”
“’A hop, skip, and a jump?’ Sometimes I don’t think we speak the same language.” Rivka tried to parse his words but gave up. “We have your cat.”
“Wenceslaus? Big orange creature with huge fangs? My archnemesis escaped? Ha! He knew his days were numbered.”
From somewhere on Terry’s end, a female voice shouted loud enough to be heard. “He’s not your archnemesis.”
“Clodagh brought him over. I just didn’t want you to worry.”
“Worry? I didn’t even notice the evil little beast was gone. I should have. I don’t have any furbabies anymore. They’ve all flown the coop. That would be feathered friends, but you get my meaning. They’re all gone. And you’ve taken more than your fair share! How’s my little Floyd?”
“Recovering from an upset stomach. She’s fine a
s long as she doesn’t get into the Cheetos again.”
“You have Cheetos? Char, why don’t we have Cheetos on the War Axe?”
“Because your fingers would be permanently orange.”
“You’re probably right. I love me some Cheetos.”
“Are you okay, Colonel?” Rivka asked.
“It’s these young nanos. They’re taking me back to my days in the Corps, about a billion years ago. No matter. I’m going to throw some iron around. Damn! Is that Red? What the hell? You look like the Hulk.”
“Is that good?” Red wondered.
“You tell me. Sorry, Magistrate. I expect you have work to do. Clodagh, Wenceslaus, and Cole. You got one of Micky’s best and one of my good people, too. Cole can drive a powered armor suit. If you need that kind of support, load him up and turn him loose.”
“All your people are good ones, TH. You wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Good hunting, Magistrate. Keep us safe from the evil that’s out there.”
“Every single day.” The comm link closed.
“Interesting,” Clodagh mused. “I never got to see that side of the Colonel. He’s always so intense and businesslike.”
“He has a lot on his plate,” Rivka allowed. “But I always seem to catch him off-guard.”
“I’m the Hulk? I need to go look that up.” Red excused himself, and Lindy went with him.
Another young woman was up front in the pilot’s seat, even though Chaz was more than capable of flying the ship. Rivka introduced herself.
“I’m Aurora. With Ryleigh and Kennedy, we’re your flight team. We’ll take care of everything related to the ship’s flight, in conjunction with your AI, of course. You won’t ever have to worry about getting where you want to go when you want to be there.”
“Who handles weapons?”
“We will as well. Sixteen-hour shifts when underway so there will always be two on duty at any point in time.”
“What kind of combat experience do you have?” Rivka preferred having Chaz in charge.
The young woman winced as if slapped. “None. That was never our job before, but we have been fully trained in systems operations, including over forty hours in the simulator.”
Fratricide Page 2
