Mission Pack 1: Missions 1-4 (Black Ocean Mission Pack)

by J. S. Morin

  Carl shook his head and checked to see who was stepping out of the pod. First out was the boy, older than he had guessed. Chip had called him a boy, but Carl might have credited him with ten or twelve years, more a lad than a boy by that age, for all the good semantics did. He was skinny, which meant he either ate little, ran around a lot, or was just that sort of skinny, wimpy kid that gets picked on wherever they pop up. Carl knew that type well. The lad had mop-cut blond hair, tousled and streaked with bits of a darker shade. His eyes were a mystery, since he kept them aimed firmly at his feet. The clothes on his back were all midnight blue, cut in the style of some sort of school uniform.

  Following him out was a young woman dressed in a black, shapeless robe that covered her from hair to ankles, leaving only the oval of her face and her hand uncovered. That face was alabaster white and straight from an artist’s sketch. Smooth. That was the word for it. High cheekbones, thin nose, and the rest pulled close and smoothed like clay. If it were not for the vivid blue of her eyes, she would not have looked much different on a monochrome display. The only decoration she wore was a pendant shaped like a lowercase T.

  “We’re no threat to you,” were the woman’s first words. She looked straight at Carl while she said them. “Please, don’t harm the boy.”

  “Dunno who said anything about harming,” Carl replied. “We just saved your asses from an asteroid. A few minutes more on that wreck, and you’d have been dusted.”

  “Far be it from me to question altruism, but I think the ship might have gotten out of the way fine on its own if you hadn’t blasted it full of holes.”

  Carl watched her face as she spoke, listened to inflections. He heard the words and they registered somewhere, but he did not expect to get much out of them. Her accent sounded Martian, one of the snootier cities at that, drawing out the end of the last word in every sentence. Carl would take a girl with an accent from any of the old Earth languages over a silver spoon Martian.

  “You got us wrong, lady,” said Carl. “We got your distress call, found a pirate picking over a fresh kill, drove him off. Wasn’t us shot your ride full of hot plasma.”

  “All plasma’s hot,” Roddy muttered out the side of his mouth from Carl’s elbow.

  “Anyway, we could have left you there to die, and we didn’t,” Carl said. “That’s gotta put in a good word for us. Lost us a man in the doing, too.” Carl hung his head.

  The fear in the woman’s face softened. “Peace to you and yours. May I be of aid in your time of grief?”

  Carl grimaced, realizing he should have recognized the pendant. “You a priestess?”

  “I’m Sister Theresa Richelieu, of the One Church.”

  Tanny had composed herself, and she and Mort came over to join the welcome party. “Thought the One Church wasn’t the Seeker type; uppity-ups not too big on travel,” said Mort. “If the past won’t come back, beat the future with a stick until it cries ‘uncle?’”

  “Some branches are like that,” Sister Theresa agreed.

  “How’s it a One Church if it has branches?” Tanny asked.

  Carl whistled, a quick burst with his fingers between his lips to draw everyone’s attention. “You can get into theology on your own time. We got us a few tasks left before we can kick up our feet. Let’s get the introductions out of the way.

  “This is Tanny, our pilot. Roddy’s our mechanic. Mriy ... well, what Mriy does around here’s not important right now. Mort’s our ship’s wizard. If you have any a-tech with you, I’d set it aside before getting too close to him. And I’m Carl, Carl Ramsey, Captain of the Mobius.” He pulled off the EV suit glove from his right hand and held it out. Sister Theresa looked down at it a moment as if trying to decide whether to take it. When she finally shook Carl’s hand, she had the grip of a child and skin as soft as peach skin.

  # # #

  An hour later, everyone had changed into their daily clothes, the cargo hold had been tidied, but far from inventoried, and they had reconvened in the hold.

  “Thank you for doing this,” Tanny whispered to Sister Theresa. They stood in a circle around Chip’s body, still in his EV suit. As a small grace, they had left his face obscured by the darkened glass of the helmet.

  Sister Theresa spoke at length about life and death, using ancient, dusty allegories and solemn assurances of the life beyond. Much of it was spoken in Latin, and Carl was tempted to pluck the earring from his ear so it would stay that way. The enchantment Mort had put on it turned everything into Earth Standard English—though it left Martian accents alone. Latin was one of those tongues that was clunky in translation, like Temerling or Straaka. It was meant to have a sound to it, like something you would recite to conjure demons, or to send them away. Instead, it sounded like a xeno trying to act tough in broken English.

  Carl found himself fixated on the clumsiness of the words and not the message. He was unprepared when it ended.

  “...Amen. Would any of you like to say a few words?”

  Tanny nodded and took a half step forward. She looked at the helmet as she spoke. “Chip, I’m sorry. I’m not sure how I’ll tell Aunt Sara and Uncle Bart, but I’ll let them know you died saving two people’s lives.” She stepped back into the circle.

  Everyone looked to everyone else. Sister Theresa caught Carl’s eye and raised an eyebrow at him. Carl swallowed, knowing he really ought to say something as well.

  “Charles Bartholomew Dyson, known as Chip because you thought it made you sound like you knew computers. Well, name or no name, you did. I was your captain. I was supposed to watch over you. Dammit, I should have made Roddy give you lessons in using a plasma torch.” That was not the tone he was looking for. He needed something more profound. “Um, we are all dust in the wind, just drops of water in an endless stream. There is nothing to fear but fear itself. Don’t fear the reaper. Um, Amen.”

  He glanced sidelong at the priestess, and Sister Theresa gave him a tight little smile and a nod.

  “And now, in the tradition dating back to the sailing ships of Earth, we commend this body to the deep,” said Carl. He leaned toward Tanny and muttered. “We on course?” She nodded.

  With that, Mort muttered beneath his breath and lifted a hand; Chip’s body rose from the floor. The old wizard led a short procession to the airlock and they shut the body inside. A moment later Chip was on course for the sun at the center of the Seles System.

  “Tanny, get us a new course before we follow him in. Mriy, take our guests to their temporary quarters.” Carl added under his breath: “We’ve got a free bunk.”

  # # #

  Carl trudged up the steps, boots ringing on the steel mesh treads, heading for the common area. When he arrived, Mort was already there, slumped on the couch in front of a holovid—a detective story set in the early 2200s by the costumes. Carl grunted a greeting as he passed by on his way to the kitchen. Digging in the cupboards, he found a ham rod and a cheese rod, and fed them into the processor. After a quick check of the bread and mustard levels, he keyed in his order.

  “What’re you watching?” Carl asked as his lunch was being prepared. He shivered. The chill in the Mobius was always refreshing after sweating his ass off in the EV suit. With his sweat cooled, it was time to find something warmer than a thin kevlex shirt. A battered leather jacket hung on the wall, and Carl slung it on as he waited.

  “Some claptrap Tanny’s been nagging me to watch,” said Mort. “It’s all drivel. I had the murderer figured out from the first scene. Not like yelling it to them will get it solved any faster, either.”

  “I think they usually do that on purpose. You’re supposed to watch how they figure it out.”

  “Bah, load of ass-backward mind candy. All sweet, no savor. Be a lad and find me something worth watching.” Mort tossed Carl the remote. Carl slipped it into a jacket pocket without giving it more than a glance.

  “Sure thing.” The food processor dinged, and he grabbed the ham sandwich that came out, along with a beer from the fridg
e. “Just wanna talk to you about something first.”

  Mort patted Carl on the arm as the captain sat down beside him. “Good enough words. No one’s expecting a captain to be Marcus Antonius. Metaphor’s a clumsy tool in the hands of a—”

  “No, not that. Our guests.”

  Mort’s face twisted in a sneer. “I’d steer clear of that one. There’s a sniff of foul science on her. Those aren’t the looks she was born to have.”

  “Figured as much. Some sort of knife-work.”

  “More knife than fork to her, that’s for sure,” said Mort. “Odd for a pious girl to be so vain, wouldn’t you say? Ought to have spent more time on her Latin, less on keeping her looks. Dreadful pronunciation. Keeps a charm, too, just so you know.”

  “It’s a holy cross. Don’t see many of those outside Sol.”

  “Carl, I’m not a blithering idiot. I grew up in Boston, remember? I’ve seen a crucifix or two before. She’s got something else, hidden beneath those robes. Might just be more cosmetics. Got hit bad with an ugly-stick, decided to come after it from both ends, science and magic. Then again, maybe it’s a death charm, ready to end her life if she gets captured. I’ll know piss-all until I can get a closer look.”

  Carl nodded. “I’ll keep my guard up. What about the boy?”

  “What about him?”

  Carl held up an open beer and a sandwich as he shrugged. “You tell me.”

  “Boy’s a boy. Get back to me in ten years, and I might have an opinion of him. He’s just had a nasty scare on one starship, now he’s on another. Might be technology’s scarred him for life.” Mort turned aside and furrowed his brow. “Hmm, might be that we can make a wizard of him,” he murmured to himself.

  “I’d settle for him being a computer prodigy. But we’re not that kind of lucky.”

  Carl pulled out the remote and flipped through the ship’s library as he ate. They were out of range of the omni, and it wasn’t worth firing up an astral link to connect from the middle of nowhere. Most of the files were Chip’s or Tanny’s, but the rest of them had a few favorites logged as well. He found one that might keep Mort amused for a while.

  “Here you go. Zero-G cage fighting. You can thank Mriy.”

  # # #

  Sandwich comfortably digesting in his stomach, Carl climbed down the steps to Chip’s old quarters, keeping hold of both handrails. At the bottom he reached for the door handle but caught himself. He knocked.

  “You may enter,” said Sister Theresa, muffled by hull-rated steel.

  Carl let himself in. The quarters were mostly how Chip had left them, with the soiled laundry moved from the bed to a neat pile on the floor. It was stacked with electronics and outfitted with more communications gear and computing power than the Mobius’s main systems. “Getting settled?”

  Sister Theresa gave him a wan smile. “We’ll manage. When the world stops spinning around me, I’ll help arrange Charles’s things. I’m sure his family will want them.”

  “Tanny is family. And no one called him Charles. Speaking of, what’s the boy called?”

  “His name is Adam.”

  “He yours?”

  For the first time, Sister Theresa showed some color on those pale cheeks. She flushed a pale pink. “Heavens, no! My vows forbid me from—“

  “Yeah, sorry. Skip it. You look a little young for one that age, though I’ve seen stranger things,” said Carl. To the boy, he said, “Hey, Adam, head on up those steps, go find yourself a bite. Just help yourself. I gotta have a talk with your friend here.”

  Adam nodded and slipped out the door. Before he got three steps, Carl called after him. “Hey Adam, you any good with computers?”

  The boy turned and looked down the steps. He seemed a normal young boy for the first time since he left the escape pod. “I’m the best. I can beat anyone at Neptune Squad, Death Arena, and Omnithrust Racer.”

  Carl nodded. “Great kid. Good for you.” He slammed the door shut.

  Sister Theresa looked at Carl with wide eyes and clutched her crucifix tight in her fist. She swallowed. “So, this is the price of passage?”

  “Whuh?” Carl furrowed his brow. “No! Hell no!” He waved his hands in front of him and backed himself against the closed door. “Nothing like that. Shit, and sorry about my language. No, we’ve just got a few things to discuss, seeing as you’re with us until our next stop.”

  “What sort of things? I promise you; we won’t leave these quarters.”

  Carl wiped a hand over his face. “What’d Mriy tell you? Never mind, just forget her. You aren’t prisoners. Just stay out of the engine room, the cockpit, and the cargo hold. Rest of the ship, feel free. Just mind you that you go into someone else’s quarters, they’re liable to get the wrong idea about you.”

  “Thank you,” Sister Theresa smiled. “So was that all?”

  “Hell, no. That wasn’t even the preamble. I want to know what you were doing with the boy. You had hours to come up with a story, maybe even had something cooking for days before that. I expect it to be a good one. After that, you’re going to tell me the truth.”

  “Captain Ramsey, it’s really very simple—“

  “Carl. Port authorities call me Captain Ramsey. And I’m damned sure this isn’t simple. Priestesses aren’t known for traveling much, and I should know because I’ll take just about any kind of passengers I can get. You lot swear off children, and you don’t make house calls to go picking up orphans. I’ll let you continue, but just bear in mind.”

  The priestess’s eyes searched the room for escape. The quarters aboard the Mobius doubled as the ship’s escape pods—palatial by pod standards, small for bedrooms. To one side was an arrangement of glassteel panels forming a window looking into the Black Ocean—the last frontier of mankind, infinitely vast. To the other side was a closed door with Carl leaning against it, blocking the only exit.

  “Let me make this easy on you,” said Carl when she didn’t respond. “Everyone here’s got secrets. That’s why they aren’t someplace better than this old bucket. I got ‘em, too. I keep ‘em safe. I keep ‘em all safe. Everyone’s. How can I do that? I gotta know what I’m protecting. I can’t be having shit rain down around me over stuff I can’t see coming. Too many lives are at stake. You level with me; I don’t judge. Play it straight up and the worst thing I’ll do is feed the both of you, loan you a bunk, and drop you off at the next stop. Understand me?”

  Sister Theresa nodded.

  “Then let’s start with something basic. You kidnap that boy?”

  The priestess looked away. “No.”

  “That’s strike one,” said Carl. He took a finger and aimed her chin back in his direction. “You slip up twice more, and you spend the rest of the trip in the escape pod we found you in, and that’s how we deliver you to the law. So you have a good reason taking the boy?”

  “Yes.” She nodded.

  Carl let out a sigh. “Good. You’re a shitty liar, so this is going to go easy if you just keep sticking to the truth. So you had a good reason...what was it?”

  Sister Theresa sat there a moment, chewing at the inside of her cheek.

  Carl came and sat down beside her on the bed. “I’m counting that as your second strike. Let me put this into terms you maybe understand a bit better. This here, this is my ship. It’s like my church, and you’re in it. It’s time for you to confess your sins, but instead of repenting them, we’re going to make them right; we’re going to find a way to live with them.

  “Or you can go right in the escape pod,” said Carl. “Your call, but confession is good for the soul. Start at the beginning: are you even really a priestess?”

  “Not officially, not anymore,” Sister Theresa said. “I’m sure they’ve defrocked me by now, and I was only probationary to begin with. Before that I taught fourth grade at the school on Bentus VIII, at a church school. Adam was one of my students.”

  “I’m with you so far. What made you run off with him?”

  “It’s a sma
ll planet, mostly corporate. There’s not a lot going on that Harmony Bay Corporation doesn’t own. It was a research facility for them. In my class, there were a dozen like him...Adam, Benjamin, Caleb, David, Elijah, Felix...”

  “They’re cloning?”

  Sister Theresa nodded. “Not just cloning, they’re trying to rewrite the boys’ minds, make them into customized people, data storage couriers, what have you. It’s not just one plan; it’s experimentation to see what they can do.”

  Carl ran a hand over his scalp, digging his fingers through hair that was five hours in an EV suit past needing a shower. “I get it now. You managed to rescue one of them.”

  “Not just one of them—Adam, the original. He’s the one they cloned from. They’re all in school together so they can judge the clones against him, see what they do better and worse. The scientists’ children attend as well, but more than half my class were Adam’s clones.”

  Carl nodded along, trying the pieces and seeing where they did not fit. “And how did you know what they were doing. Picking up on the clones, sure, I buy that. What about those plans for them? Doesn’t seem like the type of stuff they’d tell the local schoolteacher.”

  “Are you a God-fearing man, Captain Carl?”

  Carl leaned away, straightening from his seated position. They question caught him off guard, but fair was fair. He was asking a lot about her. “Me? Naw. If God was still the smiting type, I think I’d have gotten dusted years ago, back in my Navy days. He had plenty of chances after that, too. I’m a believer, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve got plenty of time to settle up with Him before I’m done. I’m sure picking up one of his young minions on a mission of mercy won’t look too shabby for me, either.”

  “Well, not every man of science is deaf to God’s word. Dr. James Augustus Cliffton was one of the top scientists for Harmony Bay. He was an old man, and worried about his standing in the eyes of the Lord. He wanted to make amends for what he helped create. He helped us: access codes, transport schedules, a little money. Without his help, I’d still be wondering what was going on with all the identical boys in my class.”