by Reiter
Jocasta blasted a single note of laughter before softly pounding the wall again. “Despite the fact that I didn’t miss, right?”
“Regardless, it was during your incredibly well-planned caper that the damages were incurred,” Dungias pointed out. “We should bear the responsibility for our actions. And you did not miss at the taproom. You missed a few shots in the warehouse district, albeit quite intentionally. Then of course there were the expenses for renovations after the bomb used to exterminate Grayson.”
“But that was you!” Jocasta asserted, turning to point at her Chief Engineer.
“And as any good commanding officer, you are responsible for the actions of those in your command.”
Jocasta breathed deeply, rubbing her temples. “So… what is the going rate on terrastone spackle these days?”
“It isn’t just the material, Captain,” Dungias advised. “Labor costs had to be taken into account.” Jocasta’s head and shoulders dropped and she moaned for a moment.
“Didya make sure to put in the union fees?” the young woman said as she leaned back against the wall. She quickly lifted her hand to cut off any retort. “No, no, no, no, I’m not done. There’s a children hospital they want to build at this station. There aren’t many kids, but hellfire, why not? And how about we start up a collection for the docking slip renovation project? I swear I can see a smudge that wasn’t there until I put my boot down!
“Academy waivers?” she continued. “Christmas toys? How about some credits to go to the local rehab clinic?! And let’s not forget the church building fund!”
“What church?”
“Find one, Z!” she snapped. “Wherever you do, I’m sure they’ll have a building fund!”
Dungias looked at her as the lift came to a stop. “You seem… upset.” It was a mixture of laughing and crying he heard coming from his Captain as she walked off the lift and toward the ship. A smirk formed, but he was able to remove it as he followed the woman. “I did see to our needs first.”
“Our needs,” she said, stopping and turning to face her engineer. “When you say ‘our needs’, do you mean things like… hmmm, our food?”
“Yes.”
“No, not food!” she said with an evil stare. “You mean rations!”
“Nutritional supplements,” he corrected.
“Hard box rations!” she yelled. “For the love of a good left turn, Z, don’t you want to have steak? Broiled salmon? Some sort of roasted beast?!”
“Those flavors can be added to the supplements,” he contended.
“Z!” she sighed as her hands fell to her sides. “We’re supposed to be pirates! Do you remember when we first had this discussion?”
“The Life Pact,” Dungias stated calmly.
“Exactly! We have a pact… or at least you have made a pact with me, because it sure as hellfire looks like I don’t have a say in the matter. I told you then, I was a pirate.”
“I remember, Captain,” Dungias quickly answered. “And in actuality, you said you wanted to be a pirate. Still, I took to the readings on the subject.”
“Right! So– the what?” she asked, confused and surprised at the same time.
“The readings,” Dungias clarified. “I do not see where I have strayed from the nuances of the vocation.”
“Voca–” Jocasta huffed before her head dropped. She put her hand over her face and tried to compose herself, failing miserably. “You gave up the booty!” she exclaimed.
“I am seeing to our future as pirates,” Dungias noted. “It is a common characteristic that pirates, through offerings of good will, can depend on members of the working class from time to time, especially when they are fleeing the authorities. I am buying potential favors for our rather unpredictable future.”
Jocasta stood there, glaring at the man, and stammered, formulating a retort that she knew could not climb the wall of reasoning he had just erected. Her mouth opened to speak, but she just nodded and sighed, turning again to walk to the ship. “I sure hope you remembered that the shrimp flavoring sucks!”
“Then we’ll give that to the guests, should we have any,” Dungias offered.
“Good. Maybe they’ll get the hint and get the hell off my… spacecraft.”
“You mean the ship,” Dungias replied, losing a fair degree of his mirth.
“That’s not a ship,” she declared. “That’s a ball bearing on growth-roids!”
“Captain!”
“Oh, come off it, Z! Look at that thing! We can’t even park it inside the docking station. We have to use a shuttle for Kot’s sake! I’m not knocking it!”
“Captain.”
“Much, I’m not knocking it much,” she adjusted. “But every single time I look at that thing, I keep wondering where the cue stick is, and if I’m going to be aboard when it’s all chalked up for the break.” Dungias had been given ample opportunity to acquaint himself with Terran cultures, and he was familiar with the various forms of billiards. There was little argument to offer Jocasta, given the perspective he had just received.
“We have to take one more delivery before we can depart,” he reported.
“Let me guess: a fresh supply of barf-bags for our next meal.”
“If that is your wish, I can add that to the two hundred fifty pounds of butchered beef, pork, poultry, and fish.” Jocasta stopped walking, but she could not turn around to look at him. “They threw in ten pounds of shrimp and ten lobsters just to keep our business,” he added as he walked by her.
“Meat? You bought real meat?”
“Flash-Frozen within seconds of being cut from the bone or pulled from the water,” Dungias added.
“But we don’t have that kind of money,” Jocasta stated.
“Certainly not anymore,” Dungias agreed. “It was a hefty purchase.”
“Z!” she raised her voice. “How did we manage the cred in the first place?! You said Kallbren was worth thirty-thou.”
“Grayson was worth fifty,” Dungias said over his shoulder and Jocasta smiled.
“How in the world did you convince the client that you were responsible for the blast since neither one of us was anywhere near the place when it blew?”
“By telling them the other DNA signature code they would find in the area,” Dungias explained. “… that of a guard at the facility; one who used his position to relieve prisoners of their credits. That matter has been resolved.
“I should also note that Furman was thirty-three thousand,” Dungias added. “However, I only told the authorities where he was receiving medical attention, so we were awarded only half of the posted bounty. I put seven thousand into a few luxuries and the rest into the account for the ship.
“One of those luxuries was the purchase of parts to go into the assembly of your fighter,” Dungias said as he stopped to look turn to look at his Captain. “I could have had them shipped, but I thought you might want to–”
“How long before we’re ready to get underway?” Jocasta asked as she jogged by Dungias.
“The last of the supplies should be waiting for us at the tether launch,” he replied as he followed.
Jocasta stopped for a moment and held out her arm to keep Dungias from walking by her. She looked at the boxes holding the frozen meat and smiled. She grasped her hands together and did a jumping dance before hitting the call button for a transfer ferry. One carryall was lowered to the tether she programmed to attach to the Xara-Mansura. Jocasta then took up a position at the side door of the ferry. Dungias stepped between her and the stack of boxes and took one from the stack, handing it to Jocasta who loaded it aboard the ferry. They did the same, in reverse order, once they were aboard the Xara-Mansura. Dungias sent the ferry back down the tether line and Jocasta started to make her way to the Bridge. By the time the goods were secured the ship was pulling away from the station.
“So admit it, you’re still mad at me,” Jocasta’s voice came over the intercom.
“I am not angry, Captain,” Dungias
replied as he reached a console in the Engineering Section of the ship.
“Sati, is he full of Kot or what?”
“Even after he flushes,” Satithe replied.
“Many thanks,” Dungias said softly as he ran a ship-wide diagnostic. Per usual, he found the customary surveillance units the so-called delivery personnel had planted.
“I am quickly approaching to the status point where I will have to construct something,” he thought as he assigned the drones to collect the devices. “We have too much in the way of materials to stow away.
“I will always have a disagreement against you putting yourself in precarious situations,” Dungias stated. “You were alone and, at one point, completely surrounded.”
“That was before they even knew who I was or why I was there,” Jocasta argued.
“Still it was unnecessary,” Dungias remained firm. “I had already worked out a plan to–”
“BORING!” Jocasta cried out. “Do you remember what happened while you were telling me about your plan?”
“You fell asleep.”
“Not just me,” Jocasta asserted. “By the time you were done, the ship was off course. Even Satithe had lost interest! Didn’t ya, baby?”
“It did lack a certain sense of…”
“Consciousness!” Jocasta shouted. “You can say it. By the time you had the bad guys in custody, I was on their side!”
“Captain, I–”
“No, let me cut you off there, Z!” Jocasta insisted. “You’re a mad genius when it comes to just about everything… but you can be too methodical sometimes. You plot and plan and scheme out everything to the Nth detail.”
“And the problem with that is?”
“That’s not life!” she answered. “No, sir, that’s not life at all, and it sure as hell ain’t living!” Dungias’ eyes lowered from the console before he closed them. He was fortunate to be alone in the chamber. Satithe had already disengaged surveillance in his immediate area, as was the customary procedure. She could tell by his physical reaction that Jocasta’s words had hit much harder than the Terran woman had intended… and Satithe was grateful for the fact.
For a moment, Dungias could almost hear her above the ranting of Jocasta; a voice that always calmed him, a song that always gave him strength and focus… but he kept from calling out her name. The word Saru had never come from crossed his lips since he had come to the Rims… but that was the only place he could keep from saying it.
“She is right,” he thought. “I cannot continue this cycle of positioning and posturing. I cannot hold myself to a lesser responsibility than the one I have forced Jocasta to acknowledge… not any longer, at any rate.
“I have lost my brother, my wife, and my child,” he thought. “I have lost five of the Seven… and, I must also admit... I have lost my way!
“I was arrested after a bar fight,” he recalled, “and I did not engage the Star-Stride once! Jocasta managed to escape capture, but I was arrested. I told myself it was to get closer to Grayson, but the simple truth is that I made the most of a situation I had allowed to go horribly awry!”
“And let me tell you one other thing about the pirate vocation,” Jocasta continued, “not that I agree it should ever be called that. Shoot me when I do!
“The working stiffs love pirates because they sometimes share the tribute, and I am emphasizing the word ‘sometimes’ here. But they also love us because we do what they won’t or can’t.
“Some Maggot, or Corpie, or general prick pushes up on a wage-slug,” she postulated, “that poor slob basically has to take it because there’s simply no telling if the asshole’s got juice enough to yank his job, or up the rent on his apartment… any number of things the fracker could do. But after his shift, when he’s tossing back a few, before he makes his way home to stretch what little cred he’s bringing home, lo and behold, he sees someone; he sees a person living on the edge and lovin’ it! Someone who can tell those pricks where to take a taste, and then stand behind those words.
“Does that improve the wage-slug’s income?” she continued. “No! But it sure as hellfire gives them a story to share, a smile to weather the strain… a dream!” Her voice trailed off for a moment and Dungias knew Jocasta was not only talking to him; she was talking to herself, reminding herself that today was just another step down a very long and winding path. Knowing the internal monitors were off, Dungias smiled and nodded. Perhaps he was not as lost as he had feared… or at the very least, not without the means to find his way back. Jocasta once again reminded him of another woman who was also quite headstrong; a woman whose only mark toward imperfection was that she was not present to receive his love and admiration. But that was a most selfish perspective. With that in mind, Dungias decided that an introduction was in order... one that was long overdue.
“And you know what else, Z?”
“I do not, Captain, but I am sure you will tell me.”
“That same idiot prick, after they’re put in their place, they’ll think twice before trying to throw their juice in someone’s face … because they won’t know just who’s in the room. You understand me?”
“I believe I do,” Dungias answered, unable to resist the urge. “We are juice thieves as well!”
“You blue ass!” she shot back and he chuckled. With the diagnostic complete and the drones collecting all of the added hardware, Dungias initiated the main power core and primed the drives. He then signaled Satithe to initiate the sleep cycle. “And there’s my green light,” Jocasta reported. “Course set and drives primed.
“What’s my heading, Z?” Jocasta asked.
“Set a course for the Zaydrian Complex,” he advised, waiting for the normal reaction.
“Hey, that’s not too far–”
As the Xara-Mansura started to move, Dungias activated his monitor and he could see Jocasta unconscious at the controls. He verified her condition and sent the drones to collect her body. The sky-mining station called Tovask was soon out of visual range, and as soon as he knew the ship was no longer on their screens, he pushed away from one console and spun to tuck himself under another. A pulse wave was sent out and the sensors discovered nothing of any note.
“Satithe, take us in, please,” Dungias said. He heard capacitors receiving their charges before the emitters fired, creating an aperture to the InterVoid. The ship passed through the threshold without incident and the white skies of the Astral Realm surrounded the Xara-Mansura. Dungias activated a beacon to let all interested parties know who piloted the ship. It was hours before there was a response.
“Welcome, good Traveler,” Borsidia’s voice contained a smile and brought one from Dungias as he took the drives offline. “It has been some time. And given what I see approaching my position, I expect this to be a very special visit.”
“It is that and much more, my friend,” Dungias said as he placed the ship on full automation. “Satithe, if you would be so good as to introduce yourself.”
“Greetings, Madame Chancellor,” Satithe said in a clear and strong voice. “My name is Satithe and I am the intelligence that maintains the ship the Xara-Mansura. I have been told you were instrumental in my creation. I am most anxious to make your acquaintance.” Dungias brought up the picture of Borsidia as the smile fell away from her face. Her lips moved, but she made no sound. Dungias waited; touched by the emotion he could see in her eyes.
“Satithe,” Borsidia finally spoke. “The pleasure of this meeting is mine. Traveler, do I have your permission to–”
“We have already made arrangements to receive you, my friend,” Dungias stated as he stood up from his chair. “I will meet you at the hangar designated on your screen. Dungias out.” He stood still for a moment and then asked Satithe for a status on Jocasta.
“The regenerator coils will not even be warm when her treatment is done,” Satithe explained. “The damage done to her body was nearly negligible. Might I suggest that if you perceived any pain, it might be that she believes she
has failed your expectations?”
“Interesting observation, Satithe,” Dungias replied as he started to take his leave of the chamber. “But we do not have that sort of relationship. She is the Captain and mistress of the ship. I am merely her Engineer.”
“Then I must agree to disagree, Master,” Satithe replied and Dungias stopped, looking up at the nearest sensory board: Satithe’s eyes and ears. “And before you give debate to my evaluation, I must ask that you give observation to the master who created me and the one who speaks to me now. For they are not the same Malgovi.”
“Oh?”
“No, Master,” she replied. “One is a Star Chaser, the other… well, the other… is not within the strides of life… to paraphrase Jocasta Endigun, he is not living!” Dungias’ hands came to a stop and lingered over the console for a moment before returning to the Traveler’s sides. But if it was solace that Dungias sought, he would not find it as Alpha took hold of the hand closest to it and gave a soft squeeze. Agreement... from his Osamu, and Dungias could not argue the perspective of either of his creations. The more he looked to them, the less he could see his current status as the Malgovi that had assembled both the computer and the power-rod of a Master Traveler.
** b *** t *** o *** r **
“Perhaps it is best for me to remain silent,” the young woman said, walking to the right side and slightly behind her master who did the same with his head down. Ernestan Geelmus was a portly man, but that did not diminish the significance of his station or the magnitude of his power. It did, however, make the walk he was taking that much more difficult, for more than his heart was heavy.
“Welcome to another facet of humanity then,” he replied without looking up. His thick and wavy black hair framed his face and fell on all sides of his shoulders. “… breaking a perfectly good silence so you may voice your opinion in regards that it would be best for you remain silent. I feel I must concur; shut up!” Ernestan walked faster and Kannadi increased her gait to keep up with him. She looked at their more quickly approaching destination and swallowed hard. The guards were already stepping aside from the double doors, struggling to keep the smiles from registering on their faces. Ernestan waved his hand at the doors and the force that pushed them open was the equivalent of a solid one hundred thirty kilogram thrust.
