Elite
Page 38
Two rows of people stood lining each side of the room, all in dress uniform whites.
‘This everyone?’ Pierce asked.
Saul looked uncomfortable. ‘Almost, ma’am.’
‘Who is missing?’
‘Crewman Watt Tyler reported he was unable to make the inspection, ma’am.’
‘Why?’
Saul’s eyes flicked down the line. ‘Crewman Kellis informed me he was sick.’
Pierce nodded. ‘Where are Tyler’s quarters?’
‘You won’t find him there, ma’am.’
‘Have I met Crewman Tyler before?’
‘If you had ma’am, you’d know.’
* * *
Pierce clambered through the bowels of the Yamorro’s engineering section, fourteen steps onto the walkway a right turn and three more, past another terminal station, then pipes and panels stretching away into darkness.
‘The next left, ma’am,’ Saul said from behind.
Dress uniforms weren’t made for the tight confinement of engine conduits. White synth cotton found ways acquire dirt and stains from everything. She peered into the gloom ahead, seeing a small electric light.
‘Crewman Tyler?’
‘Who wants to know?’
A cloud of crumpled cartons, tools and other flotsam poured out of a passageway to the side. From behind them, a figure floated out, an old man, with an unkempt beard and less than a full set of teeth. He was naked to the waist, his chest covered in white tufts of hair and scars, hundreds of crisscrossing welts and gouges.
Pierce settled her magboots into a patch of clear floor and tried to stand up straight, managing it for the most part, the back of her neck touching the ceiling plate. ‘Mister Tyler, you don’t look sick to me; there any good reason why crew inspections on the Yamorro don’t include you?’
Tyler eyed her and grinned. ‘You come all this way to find me in your nice whites Captain. Feel free to inspect away,’ he said.
Pierce scowled. ‘Mister Tyler, all crew were to present themselves, you are not an exception.’
Tyler held her eye and shrugged. ‘Sorry about that, Captain,’ he said, looking anything but sorry. ‘Might be you’ll want an explanation?’
‘You’ll find excuses cut no cloth with me, crewman,’ Pierce said.
‘Can understand that,’ Tyler’s eyes went past her. ‘Lieutenant, before I joined up, what was the Yamorro’s engine efficiency rating?’
‘Eight-five point six per cent,’ Saul replied.
‘And what’s she at now?’
‘Ninety-four point two.’
Tyler nodded and grinned. ‘These old tubs were never made for military use, but they’re durable and if you take care of ‘em, they take care of you. Might be Captain you’d like to test your ship on a run today or tomorrow? When you do, you’ll find she runs a shade higher than ninety-six.’
Pierce chewed her lip. ‘This your reason for being absent?’
‘It is, Captain,’ Tyler replied. ‘I been on a lot of ships, worked jobs all over. This stage of life, I want somewhere quiet I can hole up and get on old Captain Trask, understood and—’
‘Mister Tyler, I’m not Captain Trask.’
Tyler’s grin widened his eyes flicked up and down. ‘That you aren’t, ma’am.’
‘You might like your nest down here, but we’ll be making some changes,’ Pierce continued, ignoring the look. ‘To start, you’ll be wearing a uniform from now on and you’ll report for inspection with everyone else. You’ll also shave, tidy up and receive a wage dock for insubordination, as will Crewman Kellis for lying, clear?’
Tyler sighed. ‘How about I make a deal with you, Captain?’
Pierce’s lips quirked into a humourless smile. ‘I’m in no mood for leniency, Tyler.’
‘I’ll get you another six points on the efficiency rating; bring it up to one hundred and two percent. If I do, you leave me be down here.’
‘You think you can make century old engine run better than her design spec?’
‘With a little work, I reckon.’
Pierce frowned. ‘Tyler, you achieve that, the wage dock will go and you get three days shore leave on Quator Station. The uniform and haircut are not negotiable.’
* * *
Quator Station had one bar, which Cuthrick and Kinross had no trouble locating. The blue neon sign displaying the word ‘Hoopys’ flickered and sizzled. In another system, monopoly on trade might have meant good business, but the room was empty, except for a thin man asleep behind the counter and a body similarly slumped in a chair on the other side. An ancient holosim machine flickered in the corner. Space dogfighting for one or two players. Good practice for the real thing.
Cuthrick motioned for Kinross to stay put at the door. He pulled up a second chair and sat facing the sleeping customer. An old man, bald and scarred, wearing a dirty pressure suit with his feet up, the Alioth navy tag half torn off, read ‘W. Tyler – Engineering’.
‘You’re a hard man to find.’
The old man opened an eye. ‘Reckon I like it that way.’
‘Not hard enough, if I’ve managed to locate you,’ Cuthrick said. He leaned forwards and put his hands on the table, the rings on his fingers, displaying credentials he knew would be recognised. ‘I’ve a man at the door, but no weapons about me. This is a conversation, not an argument.’
The old man lifted his feet and sat up. ‘I reckon you’re way out of your jurisdiction.’
Cuthrick smiled. ‘You’re an Imperial citizen without proper expatriation papers, that makes you a fair prize in itself.’
The old man tapped the badge on his suit. ‘Watt Tyler’s an old Federation name. He ain’t been to the Empire.’
‘I didn’t come for Watt Tyler, I came for Commander Javelin Saunders,’ Cuthrick said, ‘the elite pilot who forgot more about getting the job done than anyone else ever learned.’
The old man’s expression darkened. Cuthrick pressed his hands to the table to stop them from shaking.
‘Ain’t heard that name in a long time.’
‘If I can find you, others will follow.’
‘What do you want?’
‘One job,’ Cuthrick said. ‘All equipment supplied, easy to manage. After it’s done, I’ll cover your tracks myself.’
‘You’ll wipe every record?’
‘Every trace from after the ship crash,’ Cuthrick promised.
Saunders scratched his stubbled chin. ‘Why should I trust you?’
‘Because I need this done,’ Cuthrick pulled a dataslate from his pocket and pushed it across the table. ‘Here’s a sweetener. A ship’s in dock, waiting for you. Keylock and ownership is on here, along with some credits and a new ID. You get back here, you can start again.’
Saunders picked up the slate and tucked it into his suit. ‘What’s to stop me walking out now with this nice new ship?’ he said.
‘A few precautions,’ Cuthrick said, ‘which I’m not stupid enough to tell you.’
Saunders laughed. ‘What’s the ship?’
‘Cobra-three, a real Jameson.’
The laugh died. ‘That ain’t a good word around me,’ he said.
* * *
The Lave System.
The Yamorro shifted slightly as she re-entered normal space and Crewman Kellis felt his stomach twinge. Old ships with big hyperdrive engines always had problems with transit. A tiny misalignment didn’t mean much, but someone used to making jumps always knew.
The last two weeks made Kellis used to jumps. The training barges had been luxury compared to the Yamorro. Something would break down all the time.
He stood up from the battered couch and clumped along the corridor as fast as his magboots would allow. The acceleration safety protocol of strapping in whilst in hyperspace was pointless; less inertia in transit than normal flight, but in the navy at the business end, you didn’t ask questions.
You did the work.
He reached the muster room, a hive of activity
and hum of power as the crew worked to bring the ship systems online after transit. Two terminals were vacant. Lieutenant Saul sat in the centre on the raised supervisor control. ‘Come on people, we need thrusters and manoeuvring available quickly!’
‘Port jets aren’t responding properly, sir,’ Rossin replied from station. Saul noticed Kellis and pointed at him. ‘Go find Tyler, tell him to take a look.’
Kellis saluted and stumbled awkwardly to the engine conduit. He deactivated the magnetic locks and grabbed the rails, pulling himself into the crawlspace amidst the mass of piping. Hand over hand he went, deep into the ship’s vitals. Tyler practically lived in these tunnels, like a spider in a nest. The debris floating around meant his usual spot wouldn’t be hard to find. Kellis flicked on his headband light and turned the corner to where he expected Tyler to be and wasn’t disappointed. The old man was stripped to the waist and hunched over three strange barrels wedged into the piping.
‘What are those?’ Kellis asked and immediately regretted it when Tyler stepped back revealing a spiralling counter. ‘That’s a bomb,’ he realised aloud.
‘Clever kid,’ Tyler said pulling kinetic pistol from his belt, pointing it at Kellis. ‘Who sent you and why?’
Kellis raised his hands. ‘Lieutenant wants the port jets fixed. How did you get—?’
‘None of your business,’ Tyler snapped. His left hand danced over a dataslate and the background whine of power went up a notch. ‘That’ll cover it for now,’ he said and patted a large coolant pipe. ‘Come and take a seat.’
‘I’m not sure I should—’
‘Wasn’t a request, crewman.’
Kellis pulled himself into the niche, reactivated his magboots and sat down, keeping his hands where Tyler could see them. ‘Why do this?’ he asked. ‘You’ll die.’
‘Comes a time in every man’s life for that,’ Tyler replied. ‘I’ve had close calls, but this ain’t bein’ one of them.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘Shoot you, put on a remlok and kick out the hull panel down the end when the bomb’s to go off,’ Tyler said.
‘You’ll kill everyone on board.’
Tyler shrugged ‘Maybe. I guess you ain’t had to choose between your life and others? Die or live with the guilt. After a few times doin’ it, the guilt goes away.’
‘But why do it at all?’ Kellis persisted, ‘you some kind of spy?’
‘Used to be,’ Tyler said. ‘Back when I had another name. Turns out, the past catches up and you have to make the same choices. Kill or be killed.’
‘No one here’s going to kill you.’
‘True enough, if I kill ‘em first.’
* * *
‘Captain, order incoming from the admiral, we’re to move up between the Furnace and the hostile.’
Dena Pierce nodded and dragged her eyes from the observational window to the face of the ensign on the comms. ‘Acknowledge receipt,’ she said. ‘Helm, bring us into position.’
‘Aye aye, Captain,’ Lieutenant Rossin replied.
The acceleration pushed Pierce back into her chair. ‘Engine efficiency rating?’ she asked.
‘One hundred and twelve percent, Captain,’ Rossin said.
‘Damn that man, Tyler,’ Pierce said and smiled. ‘He might be insubordinate, but he gets results.’
‘Captain Trask always said the same, ma’am.’
* * *
‘Keep movin’.’
Kellis did as instructed, clambering over pipes and cables, ducking under support struts and beams. He noticed jagged weld lines and torn metal panels. ‘You cut all this without anyone noticing?’
Tyler grunted. ‘Shows how little time you people spend getting your hands dirty.’
They reached the hull, a dead end. The inner plates were scorched and weakened, but not cut through. Kellis turned to face Tyler. ‘Why’d you bring me here?’ he asked.
‘Because I couldn’t have you running back to Lieutenant Saul,’ Tyler replied.
‘No, I mean, why am I still alive?’
‘Perhaps I’m soft?’ Tyler said. In one hand he held the dataslate with the spirally numbers, in the other, the gun. ‘Or, maybe I didn’t want to risk people hearing the shot? You choose.’
Kellis sighed. The old man’s expression was hard and uncompromising. ‘Doesn’t have to be like this, I could forget what I saw.’
‘Timing is everything in this business,’ Tyler said. ‘This ship blow up too early and the wrong folk’ll be blamed. You screwed up the second you found me; too late for forgetting.’
‘Easy for you to say, you’ve had a life,’ Kellis said.
‘I can understand that,’ Tyler said. ‘I know what’s going through your mind too. You’re trying to work out when’s the best chance of jumping me for the remlok and the gun.’
Kellis shrugged. ‘Glad to be predictable.’
‘Well, that’s what I’d do,’ Tyler said. He pulled off the mask and threw it over. ‘Take it,’ he said.
Kellis caught the remlok and frowned. ‘Why are—?’
‘Space, you ask too many questions!’ Tyler said. ‘Put it on before I change my mind.’
Kellis strapped the mask around his neck. ‘What’re you going to do?’ he asked.
Tyler smiled. ‘I’ll think of something.’
* * *
Quator Station. Hoopy’s bar; the whole place empty, except for the tender. He smiles at the man coming in, pours brown liquid in a metal shot and hands it over.
The man walks away to the antique holosim, looks at the screen and frowns. A distorted reflection in the glass reveals his face. Scarred and old, all but bald wearing a pressure suit with a remlok round his neck.
He turns back to the tender. ‘Who’s Kel?’ he asked.
The tender shrugs.
The man sits down, feeds a credreader into the slot and starts the game.
About the Author:
Allen has been a University Lecturer at Bucks New University in High Wycombe for ten years. He runs the successful, Film and TV Production degree and also teaches Creative Writing. He’s taught a module in Writing Fantasy for nine years and has a Masters Degree in Science Fiction and Fantasy world-building. Among his many talents, he also writes music and has composed work that has featured in award winning short films as well as all the music for the Fantastic Elite Fiction audiobook series of which this book is a part.
Allen’s Website:
www.allenstroud.com
Facebook:
www.facebook.com/allen.stroud
Twitter:
@AllenJStroud
Other books available in the Elite:Dangerous series:
Elite: Reclamation by Drew Wagar.
Elite: Mostly Harmless by Kate Russell.
Elite: And Here The Wheel by John Harper.
Elite: Tales From The Frontier by 15 authors from around the world.
Published by Fantastic Books Publishing.
Elite: Wanted, by Gavin Deas.
Elite: Nemorensis, by Simon Spurrier.
Elite: Docking is Difficult, by Gideon Defoe.
Published by Gollancz.
Out of the Darkness by T.James.
Elite Legacy by Michael Brookes Published by Frontier Developments
Table of Contents
Title
Copyright
Foreword
Prologue: Archive Note
Chapter 1: The Agent
Card Games: ‘Perihelion’
Chapter 2: The Prefect
Chapter 3: The Agent
Chapter 4: The Prefect
Chapter 5: The Child
Chapter 6: The Ambassador
Chapter 7: The Prisoner
Chapter 8: The Ship
Chapter 9: The Plan
Chapter 10: The Girl
Chapter 11: The Ordeal
Chapter 12: The Rescue
Chapter 13: The Dead
Chapter 14: The Star
Chapter 15: The Getaway<
br />
Chapter 16: The Game Changer
Chapter 17: The Council
Chapter 18: The Arrival
Chapter 19: The Landing
Chapter 20: The Chase
Chapter 21: The Assassin
Chapter 22: The Plague
Chapter 23: The Admiral
Chapter 24: The Other Prefect
Chapter 25: The Rebel
Chapter 26: The Recruit
Chapter 27: The Drifter
Chapter 28: The Ambush
Chapter 29: The Execution
Chapter 30: The Steal
Chapter 31: The Brigade
Chapter 32: The Offer
Chapter 33: The Arrival
Chapter 34: The Terrorist
Chapter 35: The Escape
Chapter 36: The Test
Chapter 37: The Battle
Chapter 38: The Decision
Epilogue: The Inquiry
Appendix A: Guide to Lave
History
The Walden Society
The Revolution and its Aftermath
Timeline of Events
Appendix B: The Walden Writings
Appendix C: The Missing Files
About the Author:
Other books available in the Elite:Dangerous series:
Credits
This project was initiated on Kickstarter and would not have been possible without the incredibly generous donations of my backers.
I would like to thank everyone who contributed to the Lave Revolution project, but particular additional thanks go to the following:
Steph Wyeth
Marie-Christine Dax
Matt Relf
Zar Peter
Mitchell "Frenchy" Rosenthal
Calvin Shafer
Michael Hughes
Brian Mark Wilde
Dan Johnson