It Ain't Over
Page 31
Cole brought up StationNet on his workstation. Accessing the comms directory, Cole searched for and found Julianna Painter. Seeing her name brought a thought back to the forefront of his mind, and after keying the control to call Painter, Cole scribbled that thought in the workspace's margin. He must’ve gotten sidetracked by the Dreadnought the other day and forgotten to look up what schematics Srexx possessed for personnel ships.
The speakers in the office chirped, indicating an established channel, right before Cole heard Captain Painter say, “Hello?”
“Hello, Julianna. This is Cole. How are you?”
“Well, I’m no captain; that’s for sure,” Julianna replied.
Cole didn’t like the tone of Julianna’s voice. “Are you okay, Painter?”
“My family’s ship is dead, Cole. Just how okay do you think I am?”
Ouch. That didn’t sound like a conversation they should have over a comms call.
“You mind meeting me for a drink? We can talk about it, and I’d like to discuss something with you.”
“You’d better hurry up. I already have a head-start on you. I’m in Max’s…on L-Two.”
The speakers chirped again, indicating a disconnected call.
Cole sighed as he pushed himself up from his seat and headed for the door. This would not end well. He had that feeling as he walked to the nearest transit shaft. Instead of going up to Deck Two, though, Cole went down to Deck Four, where the ship’s armory was located. It was a policy Cole supported that people aboard the ship could own weapons and bring them aboard the ship with them, but they had to be stored in—and registered with—the ship’s armory. Anyone found to have an unregistered weapon aboard the ship would be subject to immediate and summary dismissal, with forfeiture of all severance pay and benefits. Given the ship’s crew situation, only two people possessed the authority to access the armory: Cole and Sasha.
In the armory, Cole snagged a laser pistol they had retrieved from Iota Ceti with its accompanying belt and holster and pulled three charge packs from the charging rack. One charge pack slid into the grip of the pistol, clicking as it locked into place, and Cole clipped the other two to the belt. Cole went to the armory log, noting that he was signing out a laser pistol and entering its serial number. He’d make another notation when he returned the laser pistol…hopefully unfired.
Now, Cole felt ready to go to Max’s on L-Two.
As Cole departed the ship, pausing only to inform the deck officer he was going to the station, Srexx accessed the station’s law enforcement database and ran a query against reported crime across all levels of the station. The levels—or decks—above the docks showed reported crimes in the single digits across multiple months. The levels below the docks showed reported crimes passing double digits in the span of a week…and Srexx found a priority notice that no Station Security personnel were to go below L-One without a minimum of one partner and notifying Central of their destination, purpose, and route.
Srexx’s actions were technically a violation of Cole’s privacy; he and Cole had that discussion weeks ago, and Srexx evaluated that he understood the concept. However, Cole was his friend…his first friend in a very long time. He’d never told Cole how much he valued Cole claiming this ship as his own and saving Srexx from that cavernous tomb, and after evaluation of the current state of the galaxy as detailed via news reports, Srexx established a core principle that Cole’s safety was a paramount directive for him.
Srexx ran several probability calculations, and upon further probability calculations based on the results of those calculations, Srexx placed a comms call.
Most orbital stations were—for all intents and purposes—identical in layout and basic design. This provided many benefits, not the least of which being a reduced learning curve for new spacers. All the decks above the docks were prefaced with ‘U,’ for Upper, and all the decks below the docks were prefaced with ‘L,’ for Lower. Furthermore, if a particular service or merchant was in Compartment 17 on U-One in Bremerton Station, that same type of service or merchant was in Compartment 17 on U-One in Tristan’s Gate. It was also understood within the spacer community you didn’t go to the L decks unless you wanted to experience the seedier side of spacer life, and the further you were from the docks, the seedier the life you experienced. L-One and L-Two were usually safe enough, unless you were throwing around large amounts of credits, but past L-Three, you’d better have the reputation that made people want to step around you.
If Cole were willing to use the ‘Jax Theedlow’ persona, no rowdy in his or her right mind would have messed with him, but Cole had done everything in his power to ensure Jax Theedlow died with the freighter Howling Monkey in Pyllesc…and he wasn’t about to use his true family name with the crowd that frequented the L decks, not without an army behind him at least.
Max’s turned out to be exactly the dive bar Cole was expecting. Even though it was just on L-Two, being as far as possible from all the lift hatches made up for that. Cole approached the hatch, and stepping inside, the aromas of several kinds of smoke, unwashed bodies, and stale beer struck him like a boxer’s haymaker. Several of the people nearest the hatch turned to look at him, and Cole realized he was far too clean and well-groomed to disappear in this crowd. Cole spied Julianna Painter sitting at the bar, and he wended his way through the crowd to reach her.
“Hey, Painter,” Cole said as he approached her. “Mind if I sit down?”
“I don’t,” Julianna said, “but you might. These seats are none too clean.”
The bartender moseyed over and leaned toward Cole, asking, “So, what’ll it be?”
Cole started to respond, but the stench wafting on the barkeep’s breath reeked of death and decay. Cole felt his stomach do a little flip-flop.
“I’m good for right now, thanks,” Cole said. “I’ll wave when I get thirsty.”
“Suit yerself,” the bartender said and went back to wiping glasses with a rag that looked worse than the glasses.
Cole turned back to Julianna and leaned close, whispering, “How can you drink this swill? From the look of this place, their drinks would give engine degreaser a bad name.”
Julianna chuckled. “Well, I haven’t managed it, yet; this is my first one. I get brave every so often and lift the glass, but the moment I get it near my nose, my stomach turns. I have to put it back on the bar to keep from vomiting.”
“What in all the stars are you doing here, then?”
“The engineering report came back on the Beauchamp yesterday. One of the frigate’s shots compromised a section of the freighter’s spine. I barely have enough to have a place to sleep right now; I can’t afford those kinds of repairs, even assuming the shipyard would try to repair it. Besides, once the spine or keel’s compromised, a ship’s life is pretty much over.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I’m sure she’s a good ship.”
“Heh…she’s an old beast, but she’s mine, handed down through my family.”
Cole didn’t know what to say to that, so he nodded and changed topics. “Julianna, I want to discuss a job with you. Do you want to talk here or somewhere else?”
Julianna sighed. “Let’s go. I’m not drinking this.”
Julianna waved the bartender over and paid five credits for the so-called drink, and they stood up from the bar. Cole had just started to turn toward the hatch, when he heard a voice right behind him.
“Here, now…where do ye think yer going? We have a bit of business with ye, pretty boy.”
Cole turned and found a group of seven toughs standing between him and the hatch. Looking them over, Cole saw a couple knives, a length of pipe or two, and one fellow even carried a laser pistol.
“I can’t imagine what possible business we could have,” Cole said. “Step aside and let us pass.”
“That’s no way to be talking to yer new business partners. We saw ye the other day at the ISA office with those two girlies the Commonwealth wants so bad. Yer going to call ‘em an
d get ‘em down here for us.”
Cole laughed. “No…I don’t think so. Do the smart thing, neighbor, and stand aside.”
“Are ye daft, pretty boy? There’s seven of us and one of ye, two if yer girlie grows a pair.”
Just then, the hatch opened, and eleven people entered the bar, the boisterous background noise tapering off. There were three Humans, four Ghrexels, and four Igthons. The Igthons were a race of canine-like sentients hailing from a planet with a gravity well almost sixty percent higher than Earth’s, and their fur-covered, muscular bodies allowed them to go from bipedal motion to quadrupedal motion with ease. They held personal honor and integrity even higher than the Ghrexels, and they traveled in groups. Humans were very careful not to use the term ‘packs.’ Cole could see an Igthon with fur that was closer to red than tawny at the very back of the group, towering over everyone else, and Cole might have been concerned, except he recognized the woman leading the group: Akyra Tomar.
The new arrivals stepped away from the hatch, heading straight for Cole, and everyone in—or even near—their path was happy to move aside. Sure, the Humans didn’t look like anything special, but those Ghrexels had their claws out already. And the Igthons? Nobody in their right mind messed with Igthons, not even Thurians in a blood rage.
“Neighbor,” Cole said, “the odds aren’t what you think they are, and you should listen to me. This will not go well for you.”
“No, ye listen ta me, ye stuck-up git. Yer gonna call those girlies and get them here right now, or me friends and I are gonna take out our frustrations on ye till ye do.”
“These worms bothering you, Captain?” Akyra asked when she reached the back of the group.
Those toughs making up the back of the group turned to see who spoke, and they seemed to decide they weren’t so tough after all, choosing to disappear into the crowd with alacrity and a surprising level of silence.
“Well,” Cole said, “Captain Painter and I would like to relocate to surroundings better suited to discussing business, but there seems to be some disagreement about whether I’m leaving yet.”
Akyra turned her head to her left without taking her eyes off the sole tough still facing Cole. She said, “Hey, Red…you mind?”
The massive Igthon made his way around his crew-mates, sweeping whole tables and their occupants out of his path. It was that commotion that drew the attention of the remaining tough still facing Cole, and he turned. He didn’t turn quickly enough, though, before Red clamped his massive left hand around the tough’s neck and lifted him from the decking.
The tough made a sound very much resembling, “Urk,” as his feet left the decking, and he worked at his holster to grab his laser pistol. Red wrapped his right hand around the tough’s fist and clenched. The ghastly sound of bones crushing filled the immediate vicinity, and the tough’s eyes went wide and watered at the pain. Red turned his left hand to look the tough in his eyes and growled, his lips pulling back from his muzzle full of razor-sharp teeth in a snarl. A dark spot formed at the crotch of the tough’s dirty trousers. It was the first water those pants had seen in weeks.
Red drew back his right hand in a fist and rabbit-punched the tough right in his face, but a rabbit-punch from an Igthon was almost a haymaker from any other race. The sound of bone cracking heralded a rush of blood from the tough’s now-broken nose, and the tough slipped into blissful unconsciousness. Red tossed the tough into the crowd, the tough’s flight sweeping three tables clear before he reached an open space large enough to fall to the decking.
Red turned his attention to Cole, looking down at him as he asked in a deep rumbling voice, “Are you well, Captain?”
“Yes, I am,” Cole said, looking up at Red. “Thank you.”
Red turned and scanned the crowd, asking in a voice loud enough to carry across the entire space, “Anyone else have a problem with the captain leaving?”
A sea of heads shaking ‘no’ answered Red’s enquiry.
On the way to the lift, one Igthon and one Ghrexel walked about two to three meters ahead of the group. Two Igthons and two Ghrexels each walked on either side of Cole and Painter, and two of the humans and the last Igthon and Ghrexel brought up the rear. Akyra walked with Cole and Painter.
Cole asked, “You came to Max’s just for me?”
“Yes, sir,” Akyra replied. “Yeleth contacted me and said you’d left the ship without cover and asked me to bring a group of her choosing to Max’s and make sure you were okay.”
“Huh…I wonder how she knew I was going to Max’s.”
Akyra shrugged. “No idea, Cap. She just said that’s where you were headed.”
Back aboard Haven, Cole asked Yeleth to join him and Painter in his office on Deck Three, where he first thanked Yeleth for the group that had saved him some trouble. Then, he asked Julianna if she wanted a job.
“Are you sure about this, Cole?” Julianna asked.
Cole nodded. “Yes.”
“Then, I have a question for you. Want to buy the Beauchamp for scrap as well?”
Cole frowned. “Are you sure about that, Julianna? That’s your family’s ship. It has a history.”
“Cole, the spine is cracked. It will buckle the first time it’s under stress from the engines, and the whole ship will come apart. The only way to fix it is basically re-build the ship from the keel up, and as much as I’d like to say otherwise, the old girl just isn’t worth it.”
Cole shrugged. “Okay. I’ll buy it from you for scrap on two conditions. One: you keep the computer core to transfer your family’s logs into your new ship; and Two: you sign on with me and captain the new Beauchamp. We still have to build it, and I’m not sure what type of ship it’ll be right now, but I need a captain for an idea I’m working up.”
Julianna nodded, and Cole saw her eyes glint with a hint of extra moisture. “You have a deal, Cole.”
“No questions?”
“I looked at the calling card, Cole…no questions.”
Cole turned to Yeleth. “Yeleth, can you use another person in your department?”
Yeleth smiled like the predator she was. “I can always use good people, Captain.”
“Julianna reports to you until we build her a ship. Oh, and Yeleth…when we pay Julianna for her ship, make sure we pay her fifty percent of market value for a freighter of that class or scrap value, whichever is higher. And while I’m thinking about it, make sure we save a section of the bridge bulkhead; we’ll use it to make the ship’s plaques on the new Beauchamp. Come to think of it, we should work up ship’s plaques for Haven, too…but one thing at a time.”
Just then, Srexx spoke over the office’s speakers, “Please, forgive the interruption. Cole, you have an incoming comms call from a Myrna Mikkel.”
Cole grinned. “Julianna, Yeleth will handle your employment contract and all that; she has signing authority on the ship’s account. Is there anything else?”
Yeleth and Julianna both said, “No.”
“All right, then. Thanks for coming aboard, Julianna. Thank you, Yeleth.”
Julianna and Yeleth left, and Cole said, “Put that call through, Srexx.”
The speakers chirped, and Cole heard Myrna say, “Hiya, Cole! Is that offer of a joyride and tour of your engine room still available?”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Not even ten minutes after Myrna came aboard, Haven undocked from The Gate, asking them to hold Docking Slip 12, and left on a tour of asteroid mining colonies throughout the system. Haven met several ships en route with asteroid material, even while visiting all those mining concerns that wanted to sell to them but didn’t have ships of their own. They spent about a day at it, and when Haven returned to Docking Slip 12 at the Gate, Myrna begged Cole to stay. Cole accepted, and in a flurry of joy, Myrna turned to go tell Carter Bailey and drop out of university. Cole wasn’t so wild about her dropping out of her degree program and asked her if they provided an option for distance learning. She promised she’d look into that.
“Hello, I’m Cole, captain of the ship,” Cole addressed the older couple. “How can we help you?”
“Carl and Lindsey Vance,” the older gentleman said, shaking Cole’s hand. “We’re Sasha and Talia’s grandparents, and we were just able to catch a shuttle up to The Gate.”
“Huh…we’re in the midst of preparations to depart for Oriolis to investigate the disappearance of Harlon Hanson,” Cole said and noticed their faces fell. “Do you have anything pressing at home?”
“No,” Lindsey said. “May we ask why?”
“Well, if you can get away for a while without too much fuss, I’ll set you up in the flag officers’ quarters, and you can have an extended visit with Sasha, Talia, and who I’m guessing is your son and another granddaughter.” Cole jerked his chin behind them.
Carl and Lindsey turned and seemed surprised to see Sev and Emily leading a rather large group of Vances and Hansons.
“Sev? Emmy?” Carl asked.
“Hi, Grandpa,” Emily said as she approached and pulled her grandfather into a hug. “We were hoping to go with Cole and help if Harlon needs rescuing.”
Cole shrugged. “It’s not like we’re short of beds or bodies, but I gave your grandparents the flag officer’s suite. I have space in junior officers’ quarters for you and Sev, but the rest of your people are going to have to bunk on the crew deck. The upside, though, is that we have plenty of NCO berths available for them.”