by Rachel Aukes
“We’ll be careful,” she said.
Chief continued, “Oh, and I’ll give Eddy a thirty-day extension to pass his exam. If he doesn’t pass by then, he’s out.”
“Fair enough.” Throttle knew Chief would give Eddy an extension. He’d been giving Eddy extensions for over a year, though she had a suspicion this might be Chief’s final act of generosity to the cadet. She gave a final nod to Chief and exited.
She looked down at the badge in her palm. Even though she’d been a marshal for only a year, it had become a facet of her life that felt as necessary as breathing.
For much of her life, she’d been on the other side of the law. It seemed surreal that she could do much of the same things she’d done before, only this time she had the law on her side. She’d had to turn in her badge when she went on medical leave, and she’d floundered for purpose during those long months. With a smile, she slapped the badge onto her upper left chest, where the fabric seemed to seal around it.
She tapped her wrist-comm. “Rusty, give Eddy full access again and ping the crew. Tell them to get to the Javelin for immediate departure. We’re back in the game. We’ve got ourselves a new mission.”
Chapter Two
Throttle sat at the helm of the Javelin as it shot through the Ross system. Sylvian sat at a console nearby, putting the finishing touches on the latest software update she was coding for the Javelin’s buggy systems.
“How’s the update coming along?” Throttle asked.
The software specialist didn’t look up from her screen. “When we migrated the Scorpia’s systems to the Javelin, we caused as many problems as we fixed, but I think between Rusty’s continuous protocol improvements on the back end and my upgrades, we’ve just about got everything all sorted out.”
“Good. I’d hate to have another bathroom incident,” Throttle said.
Sylvian shivered, then chuckled. “Yeah, that was rather explosive. But the waste system seems to be working with no error codes now.”
“Keep at it. I know it’s not easy what you’ve been doing to patch all the busted or missing systems this ship had when we found it, but you’ve morphed this ship from a dead-in-the-water hunk of metal into the best damn ship I’ve ever had the honor to captain.”
“It’d go a hundred times faster if we were actually connected to the GP’s Atlas network rather than just telling Chief it’s connected. That way, all updates could be automatically uploaded,” Sylvian said.
“The Javelin’s technically connected to Atlas net. Remember, we had to do that in order to get the photon cannon installed.”
Sylvian smirked. “I don’t think having Atlas installed on an isolated sandbox system counts.”
Throttle shrugged. “It seemed good enough for Chief, at least until he figures it out. We’re already plugged into Atlas too much for my comfort. Back home, the more we connected with the Collective, the more control they had over us.” She tapped her temple near her eye with the implant. “I might have to wear this for the job, but I don’t like the GP having its fingers in anything more than it has to.”
“I get it, but it does take longer when I have to do manual uploads.”
“If it does get overwhelming, we can migrate the sandbox connection over to the main system.”
“Once I upload the latest Atlas charts into the nav system, all the big updates will be done for now,” Sylvian said.
Throttle sighed. “It’ll be nice to finally have the Javelin running without any kinks.”
Sylvian chortled. “Not if you talk to Eddy. He seems to think this ship could still fall out of the black at any moment.”
Throttle rolled her eyes. “Eddy assumes that whatever ship he’s on is about to fall out of the black. He could be on a brand-new ship fresh out of the docks, and he’d think it was about to fall apart. He needs to spend three years modifying and tweaking a ship before he’s comfortable, so he still has at least two months with the Javelin before he’s confident enough to call it space-worthy.”
“Have you been back in engineering to see how much he’s got torn up? I swear he’s rebuilding the ship from the inside out,” Sylvian said.
Throttle smiled. “The time Eddy spends in engineering is time he’s not up here, driving me crazy with hardware reqs.”
“Attention, crew. We will reach the Wu Zetian in ten minutes.” Rusty, the Javelin’s central voice command system, spoke throughout the ship’s speaker system.
“Good. We should be close enough to see if anything is moving out there. Rusty, run scans on the entire sector. Let me know if you pick up any ships.”
“I’m already running scans,” Rusty replied.
Throttle checked both blasters in her hip holsters to make sure they were at full charge. She preferred the stopping power of pistols, but projectile-type weapons were outlawed on all spacefaring ships. It was a law she could understand. A single hull puncture could cause a whole load of problems on a ship in the vacuum of space. As a Peacekeeper, she had sworn to enforce all laws enacted across the Ross system. After a lifetime of a more fluid approach to following orders, she suspected that promising to enforce laws would be much easier than actually enforcing them, let alone following, said laws.
“My scans identify only two ships: an Elder-class transport with Sol Red Dynasty credentials and a Rabbit-class lorry with Ross Peacekeeper credentials. Both are stationary. They are located at the edge of the asteroid belt’s sector. Additional ships may be located within the asteroids, but I can’t pick them up due to signal interference and debris.”
“The pirates probably used the Tumbleweed Trail to sneak up on both the Wu Zetian and the marshal’s ship. Keep a close eye on that belt. I don’t want the same thing to happen to us,” Throttle said. She’d never met Peter Antonov though she’d heard his name on several occasions, as she had heard of nearly all the other marshals within the system. Antonov was a newer marshal, going through training in the class before Throttle and Finn’s class. When Throttle had to go on mandatory medical leave to get her new blades, Pete had built a reputation as a capable law enforcer and one of a small handful of marshals who flew without a crew.
She’d flown with her crew for fifteen years, which made them more family than crew, and she wasn’t sure she could handle losing anyone else to Anna East. She’d given up mourning the loss of Birk, Nolin, and Garrett, but memories would sneak into her daily routines, haunting her. Their ghosts—especially Birk’s—formed a hard, stony crust around her heart. She wondered how many more ghosts she could carry before her heart became solid stone, and she lost all empathy.
Throttle’s jaw tightened. She had neither the time for nor the interest in introspection. Instead, she tapped the comm-link to broadcast across the ship. “Eddy, prepare the tugs. Finn, suit up and meet me at the airlock after we drop out of jump speed. I want to check out the marshal’s ship before we bring it into our cargo hold.”
Sylvian turned to face Throttle. “It’d be safer for Rusty’s bots to check out the ship.”
“Can’t,” Throttle said. “All his bots are needed to hook up the tugs. Besides, I could use a spacewalk. I’m getting out of practice.”
“But I haven’t programmed Rusty’s bot system yet for that,” Sylvian said.
“That’s why Eddy’s running them.”
“Oh, that makes sense.” After a moment, Sylvian spoke again. “Do you think you’ll find the marshal out there?”
Throttle shrugged. “I’ve salvaged enough ships to know to never expect anything. Chief wants us to find out what happened to Antonov, so our first step is to start at where Antonov was last. If he’s not on either ship, we’ll look for breadcrumbs.”
“Hold on. We’re dropping out of jump speed now,” Rusty announced.
“Try pinging Antonov on the Peacekeeper channel,” Throttle said.
The humming of the engines became lower pitched. Otherwise, there were no other signs that they’d reduced from point three four light speed to a mere few hun
dred miles per hour. Ships from the Trappist system, where Throttle and her crew hailed from, had slower jump speeds, and the transition from jump speed to sub-speeds was jarring. She appreciated the advancements Earth technology had made in the centuries since the first colonists left Sol for the Trappist system.
The stars outside the windows no longer moved, and everything outside seemed still. In the far distance, light flickered off the metallic asteroids in the Tumbleweed Trail, which appeared to span endlessly in a long arc. Sitting between the Javelin and the asteroid belt, two ships waited. One was tiny, capable of holding a crew of three; the other was a massive cargo hauler, easily eight times the size of the Javelin and shaped like a bloated whale. Chunks of debris littered the area.
“I haven’t received any response to my ping,” Rusty said.
“I figured as much,” Throttle said. “See if you can run scans on the interiors of both ships. Tell me what we’re dealing with.”
A few seconds later, Rusty reported, “The Rabbit-class ship is registered to Peter Antonov. The ship is completely powered down, though I’m reading its batteries are fully charged and its main systems are in standby mode. It has a harness line attached to the larger ship. The ship seems fully functional, but I detect no signs of life on board.”
“If the ship is still functional, that sounds like Antonov abandoned ship rather than having a cat fail,” Throttle said.
“I agree with your assumption that the ship has not suffered a catastrophic failure. Once Eddy interfaces one of my bots with its network, I can confirm the ship’s status,” Rusty answered, with his usual accent that was unfamiliar to the crew. Chief had once referred to it as a Scottish brogue.
“And the Red ship?” Throttle asked.
“The hull has been severely breached. Its systems are offline, and I detect minimal power readings. However, there is much organic material on board.”
“That’d be the seeds. All the DNA material,” Throttle said. “All right, Rusty. Bring us in. Just keep an eye out for debris.” She pushed back from her panel, grabbed her helmet off the floor, and stood. She tapped the wrist-comm device wrapped around her forearm. “All, report in on Black Sheep net.”
“Finn reads you loud and clear.”
“Eddy’s on.”
“Sylvian’s on.” The specialist’s voice echoed through the wrist-comm since she was on the bridge with Throttle.
“Rusty is connected to the net. Not that I was ever disconnected,” came Rusty’s response.
The wrist-comm was a relic from back home. The technology was ancient compared to Ross standards, but there was a comfort to wearing a piece of tactile hardware rather than the microscopic Atlas chips.
While her crew all had Atlas chips, she preferred to use the standalone wrist-comms, especially since she kept delaying adding Rusty to the Atlas network. The Peacekeeper Atlas network recorded all communications made through its relays. She wouldn’t be surprised if it recorded everything she said even when she didn’t activate the voice command. She’d never liked the idea of being watched.
“Rusty, I want you to closely monitor this sector for traffic. I don’t want to get caught with my pants down when I’m checking out those ships.”
“You should leave your pants on, Throttle. It’s cold out there,” Rusty replied.
Throttle cocked her head. “Was that your first joke?”
“Did you find it funny?” Rusty asked.
“Not really,” she replied.
“Then, no, it wasn’t my first joke.”
She chuckled, then turned to Sylvian. “You have the ship, Sylvian. Even though Eddy’s driving the bots, I want you to monitor their systems. Don’t connect to the Rabbit’s network unless you have a safe sandbox. Peacekeepers are notorious for having nasty surprises for anyone trying to hack their systems.”
The specialist nodded. “Be careful out there.”
“I always am.” Throttle left the bridge. As she walked, she tapped her comm. “Eddy, go ahead and start hooking up the Wu Zetian. We’ll be open broadcasting on the Black Sheep network.”
“All right,” Eddy replied.
She’d already donned her chime suit, nicknamed that because of their variety of warning alarms that tended to go off at random intervals, during the jump and headed straight down the hallway to the airlock where Finn waited. He wore the same black Peacekeeper chime suit as she wore, except his went down to his grav boots, while Throttle’s flight suit ended where the composite blades encompassed what was left of her thighs.
He motioned for her to enter the airlock before him.
She stepped past the sign displayed above the airlock that read Fortes fortuna adiuvat, which she’d learned from Mutt meant “Fortune favors the bold.” She didn’t know who’d put it there, but after she’d learned of its translation, she decided to leave it in place, as it seemed to be the perfect maxim for the Black Sheep.
She entered the enclosed space, where a green light shone near the ceiling. Finn followed, and the door closed behind him. They slid on their helmets, and the HUD across the helmet visor reported a secure seal.
“Grav boots on,” Throttle said as she slid her finger up a sensor bar on her blades, increasing the magnetism from zero to three.
Finn held up his thumb. “Grav boots are on.”
She spoke again. “Rusty, we’re ready for D and D.”
“Depressurizing and degravitizing in two seconds,” Rusty said.
The green light turned red, and the floor rumbled as the air was sucked from the airlock. Throttle felt her hands lift and her body become lighter. Several seconds passed before the vibrations smoothed. She gave Finn a glance to see him standing confidently and with no hint of distress.
She looked at the door. “Rusty, open the outer lock.”
The door before them slid open, revealing an empty, serene sea of black with two ships only a hundred meters from the Javelin.
“I’ll take point,” Finn said as he disengaged his grav boots and pushed off toward the marshal’s ship.
“We’re leaving the Javelin,” Throttle announced. She reduced the magnetism on her blades to zero before shoving out of the airlock and toward the ships. On her HUD, she controlled the directional magnets in her suit to make tiny adjustments to her course. She watched Finn shoot ahead of her. He shifted to hold out his hands when he approached the ship, and his grav gloves snapped onto the small vessel, abruptly terminating his forward movement near the windshield.
“Damn, I got rusty,” he said as he repositioned on the hull.
“Yes, I’m always with you, well, at least as long as you have your comms on,” Rusty said.
Finn’s sigh came through the speakers. “Wow, I’ve got my own guardian angel. Now I feel special.”
“You shouldn’t. I can communicate with all of the crew,” Rusty added.
Throttle chuckled. “There’s nothing like a computer reining your ego back in.”
She turned on her grav gloves and immediately felt the light tug of the fabric to the metal nearest her. She reached out and connected with Antonov’s ship several feet from the hatch.
“Show-off,” Finn said, and Throttle knew his words had been meant for her.
“I can give you some lessons if you’d like,” she responded with a smile. Her landing had been perfect despite being out of practice. She lowered the magnetism enough to easily crawl over the surface while examining it. She frowned. She’d expected to see scorch marks or gouges from a ship’s claws, but the hull looked to be undamaged.
“We’ve made contact with the Rabbit. So far, it looks just fine,” Throttle announced.
“I don’t see any damage, either,” Finn added.
“Roger that. Keep me posted,” Sylvian replied.
Throttle reached for the touchscreen near the hatch and entered the access code Chief had given her. The screen blinked green and the ship systems came online. “The Rabbit booted up with no problem. We’re continuing with our search,” she
said.
Finn looked up from where he’d been peering through the windshield. “I don’t know if it’s good news or bad news, but there’s no sign of Antonov. No sign of a struggle. No sign of anything out of the ordinary, other than the guy looks like a neat freak. I mean, who keeps everything fastened down? There’s not even a dirty sock floating around.”
“I’m going inside to take a closer look. Stay out here by the panel in case the airlock misbehaves.”
“You got it. I’ll just hang out here and practice my spacewalking.”
She opened the hatch and angled herself around the opening to maneuver into the tiny airlock. The door closed behind her, raising her tension a notch, and the airlock pressurized with a windstorm. A green light shone above the inner door. She magnetized her prosthetic blades and pulled out a blaster before opening the door.
Throttle held her blaster steady before her, waiting a moment before stepping through the doorway and into the ship. She left her helmet on, knowing full well that pirates had often eliminated potential resistance by piping in deadly gas. They saw no signs of penetration, but she wasn’t about to take any chances.
“I’m on board the Rabbit,” she said. The small cockpit to her left held a single pilot’s station. Everything was neatly labeled, and nothing seemed out of place. She nodded briefly at Finn, who was spread against the windshield like a leech. She turned to her right to where there was a single bunk-toilet system. The bunk was tightly made, with not even a shirt slung on the mattress. A locker next to the bed stood empty. “His chime suit’s missing,” she said out loud.
Behind the combined cockpit and living quarters was the cargo hold. She approached the cargo door to find it locked. Peering through the window, she found crates secured with cargo straps to all the walls—nothing out of place.
“Antonov’s definitely not on board, and pirates didn’t hit this ship. Otherwise, this thing would’ve been torn apart for anything of value. Whatever happened to Antonov didn’t happen while he was on board the Rabbit.”
