Chutes & Ladders (Prosperous Book 1)

by A. Rhea King

  Amidien stared at the holo-pad. He couldn’t look up. Over the years he’d helped and befriended many Merchant Raitor officers of all ranks. He was a ‘godfather’ to an admiral’s bairn – although he wasn’t exactly sure what a ‘godfather’ did. This order would inevitably mean he’d have to watch some of those friends die, and that made his stomach turn. The only mercy in these orders was that he was not commanding the attacking ships.

  All reluctance aside, Amidien didn’t understand why his father would issue this order. When Merchant Raitor found out about these attacks – and Amidien was confident they would – the board would ban Tetra from the Merchant Raitor Union. There were very few nations who were not part of the Merchant Raitor Union, and there was no way Tetra would be granted an exception if they began an unprovoked war. Was this coming from his father’s paranoia or one of his terrible advisors?

  “It’s about time we did something about them,” a captain said.

  Amidien didn’t reply.

  “Don’t you think, Amidien?”

  Amidien looked at the holographic faces. “I’ll transmit copies to all ships and forward mission details as they are received.”

  Amidien walked toward the door.

  “What’s your opinion on this mission, Amidien?” he heard a different captain ask.

  He stopped at the door, hand poised over the door controls.

  “My father has issued an order. We will obey.”

  Amidien left the room, letting the other Terallians say what they dared. He had hardly left the room when he heard footsteps run up. Erchan held Amidien’s gaze for a moment, and then looked at the floor.

  “Sometimes I don’t understand the Universe,” Erchan said.

  Amidien nodded. The two had developed their own language to allow them limited conversations about unlawful topics. Universe meant his father, the wretch behind this nonsensical mission.

  “Neither do I,” Amidien replied.

  “I’d ask it questions, demand it explain itself, but it won’t. It just surrounds us and makes us keep to ourselves.”

  Amidien nodded.

  “It should take four hours to prepare the beacon,” Erchan continued. “I know I’m not required at a post for at least that. Are you?”

  “No. What did you have in mind?”

  “I feel like getting… What’s the word I always hear that human friend of yours say?” Erchan thought for a moment and then grinned. The smile always made him look like a young hatchling and was usually a precursor to the two of them getting in a lot of trouble. “Oh yes. Shit faced.”

  Amidien laughed. Erchan had accompanied him on most of his visits to Earth and quickly picked up slang from all of the human languages.

  “I can’t get that intoxicated, but I will have a couple drinks with you.”

  Erchan smiled, but Amidien saw the smile didn’t touch his eyes. He didn’t want to be there any more than Amidien. He didn’t want to hurt any of his Merchant Raitor friends either. He held the same rare beliefs as Amidien. He thought he should only marry women he actually loved, and male or female, he adored all of his offspring. So the two of them would go through with the mission, give each other strength, and feel distressed in their stomachs every time a Merchant Raitor ship was destroyed.

  Chapter 09

  TRU FELT BURIED UNDER DOCUMENTS SLIPS AND PADS. THEY WERE STREWN across his usually tidy office and even with two droids helping him, he felt as if the information on them wasn’t getting entered into the database fast enough.

  “Nardole,” Tru said, “Come here.”

  One of the droids left the stack he was scanning and zipped over to Tru’s desk.

  “Yes, Doctor?” the droid named Nardole asked.

  Tru placed the doc-slip on a pile of others. He held them out to the droid.

  “Take these to the cargo chief. Tell it that these are our bills of lading. Then finish scanning the books.”

  “Yes, Doctor.”

  Tru, you have an incoming video call from Admiral Larson, Gracie announced.

  Tru turned to the terminal on his desk and tapped the screen. Admiral Larson appeared.

  “Three days out, Tru. How’s it going?”

  Tru forced a smile. “It’s…” He couldn’t lie. He put his forehead on his desk. “I was insane to think I could do this, Greg. I should have just taken the damn strike on my record.”

  Larson laughed. “That good, huh?”

  Tru sat back in his chair. “I haven’t slept more than sixteen hours in the last four days, and Gracie is acting out…”

  A squeal sounded erupted over the COM speakers in Tru’s office. He jammed a finger against a button his desk, and it stopped.

  “That’s an alarm that won’t quit going off, and my Senior Engineer is always too busy to even talk to me – in person. There have been fistfights and food fights, they’ve tried to take parts of the ship apart, and others who are too lazy to be bothered with the jobs they were hired to do. Which circle of hell did you dig this crew up from, Greg? And how can I get them put back there?”

  “I already told you. There was no one else and your dad—”

  “I remember, and both you and he were wrong. Besides, he’d probably already polished off half a bottle of Scotch when he told you that. So had you.”

  “Neither of us had a drop that night. Tru, I need you to speak to Ambassador Mullin about his wife.”

  “Why?”

  “Her mother hasn’t spoken to her for a week. She believes something has happened to her The Detroit Police Chief asked if you’d talk to the Ambassador and see what he knows. They said the mother and daughter don’t have the best relationship, and this may just be a case of the woman ignoring her mother.”

  “Why didn’t her mother just contact Mullin directly?”

  “She tried, but he hasn’t responded.”

  Tru nodded. “I’ll talk to him.”

  “Thank you. If things get too bad, and if you need to vent, call me. Day or night.”

  “Thank you, Greg.”

  Greg disappeared. Tru looked at the other droid in his office.

  “Agent Ninety-nine.”

  It turned, asking, “Yes?”

  “I’m leaving for the day. Finish filing these reports.”

  “You would like me to file them without your review, Captain?”

  “Yes, ninety-nine, and then you can return to your charging pad.”

  “Compliance.” It turned back to its task.

  Tru left. He decided to deal with Mullin later. What he needed now was the sanctuary of someplace none of the crew could find him, and he knew just the spot.

  Tru rounded a corner, seeing two Jaque headed his direction.

  The species resembled Ursidae and fascinated Tru. Nearly a million years had passed since they began walking on their hind legs, but the bones hadn’t finished developing to the right density or angles to fully support their weight. Sometimes they walked upright, and sometimes they hop-walked like gorillas. There were other features that were clearly still evolving, but something about them reminded him of a teddy bear.

  Tru smiled at them, not expecting a reaction. To his surprise, both smiled as they walked past.

  “Evening, Captain,” one quietly said.

  “Good evening,” Tru answered, smiling more. With hope, he thought, ‘Maybe we will actually survive this stint after all.’

  “Captain Barnett,” Amanda’s voice said behind him, ruining the moment.

  Tru stopped, closing his eyes. He heard her mutter something to the Jaque and then she stopped beside him.

  “Have you seen the load specs?” Amanda demanded.

  Tru looked at her. Her flushed face and she was lightly panting, which suggested she’d been searching for him for some time. He wondered why she hadn’t asked Gracie to tell her where he was instead of searching for him.

  “Can’t say that I have.”

  “Our cargo is outside of the boundary marks! That poses a severe hazard, Capta
in.”

  “Executive Officer Wrigley,” someone called.

  The two looked up, watching a Ga’reicht trot up. Amanda ignored him, turning back to her complaint.

  “Sir, the cargo isn’t within standards.”

  “Wrigley,” he paused to let out an exasperated sigh, “you come up to me and say the cargo is off, and outside the boundary marks, yet, no one else has mentioned this. And Gracie hasn’t reported an imbalance. So if you want my help, you need to tell me exactly what is off about it.”

  “All the cargo in bay seven is over the load marks by three millimeters.”

  “Ma’am,” the Ga’reicht said, “I have—”

  “Wait,” Amanda snapped at the Ga’reicht. “Sir, that’s outside of regulations.”

  Tru stared at her, hoping she’d start laughing or somehow indicate she was joking. But she didn’t. “I see. And did you go into bay seven and measure every stack of cargo?”

  “No!”

  Tru narrowed his eyes a little when indigestion flared in his abdomen. She stared at him, unwavering.

  “Remember our Silerium conversation, XO?” Tru asked.

  She swallowed but refused to admit she had measured the cargo.

  “Ma’am,” the Ga’reicht said.

  “Just a minute, crewman,” Tru told him. “Wrigley, you and I will never develop a sound professional relationship if you continue lying to me. Tell me the truth.”

  She was stubborn and holding fast to her lie. Tru wasn’t in the mood to deal with her attitude right now, so Tru turned to leave.

  “Fine! I did. But it only proves my point, sir,” Amanda told him.

  He stopped and considered his options. He wished he knew what was wrong with her because then he might find more patience to deal with why a few millimeters was so important to her. But he was without that, so he decided to ignore her issue for now.

  Tru told her, “It’s only three millimeters, Wrigley. It’s not posing any danger, and we won’t be fined for three millimeters.”

  “But, sir—”

  “Good night, Wrigley.”

  Tru continued walking.

  “Sir, if you let this slide, it will only get worse!”

  Tru waved his hand. “Good night, Wrigley. See you in the morning.”

  “Sir, you have to—”

  Tru turned a corner. She clenched her fists, considering running after him and demanding that order the cargo be moved.

  “Ma’am,” the Ga’reicht said.

  Amanda turned on the crewman, bellowing, “What!?”

  “We found the rest of your luggage; somehow it ended up in cargo bay two. I had it sent to your quarters.”

  “No. Have it all sent to laundry and washed.” Amanda walked away.

  “Ma’am, it was just sitting under stairs. I’m sure it’s not dirty.”

  “I gave you an order!” Amanda yelled at the Ga’reicht.

  “Fine, ma’am. I’ll have the steward drop it off when it’s done.”

  Amanda turned, storming toward the Ga’reicht and wagging her finger at her. “No. Only droids can enter my quarters. Is that understood? No one else.”

  The Ga’reicht stared at her.

  “Is that understood!?” Amanda demanded.

  “I… Uh… Yeah. I mean, yes, ma’am.”

  Amanda stormed off, leaving the stunned Ga’reicht to sort out her strange reaction.

  Tru stopped outside Ambassador Mullin’s door and tapped the doorbell. After a few moments, the door opened. The man wore a dark red Drasparah linen robe. In one hand he held a glass containing a caramel-colored drink and with the other a long Havana cigar.

  “Admiral Larson said your mother-in-law contacted him about her daughter. She believes her daughter is missing. Do you know where she is?”

  “No.”

  “Could you maybe locate her?”

  “Do I look like I’m Earth?” he angrily snapped.

  “No, but has she contacted you in the last couple days?”

  “Yes.”

  Tru frowned when his stomach turned. Mullin had done no such thing.

  “Did she say she was okay? Or maybe tell you where she was?”

  “No.”

  Another lie. The men stared at each other in silence for a moment. “Fine. Why don’t you contact her and ask her to call her mother or send her a message that she’s okay.”

  “Even if I tell that bi… woman that my wife is spending a month on Venius she wouldn’t believe me.”

  “Is she?” Tru asked him.

  “Is she what?”

  “Is your wife on Venius?”

  “I don’t know.”

  The lie twisted Tru’s stomach, and he had to clamp his teeth to resist vomiting. The intensity lessened, and he asked, “When did you talk to your wife last?”

  “What business is that of yours?” he snarled.

  Tru’s lifted his chin. “None, except that if you don’t contact your mother-in-law, Admiral Larson will continue contacting me until you do, and I have better things to do than to fix whatever is wrong with your marriage.”

  Mullin smirked. He leaned in, spreading his stinking, whiskey-scented breath on Tru’s face. With a couple jabs to Tru’s chest, he told him, “I looked into you before I agreed to this trip. You left your husband for this job.”

  Tru resisted looking away when he heard what sounded like an animal growling.

  Mullin flicked the captain pin on Tru’s chest, almost snarling. “To be a stinkin’, worthless, Merchant Raitor captain. Here’s an idea. Maybe if you can’t make your own marriage work, you shouldn’t try fixing other people’s marriages, you incompetent Merchant Raitor scum.” He stepped back so the door closed before Tru could reply.

  Tru stared at the door. He wanted to call Mullin back to tear into him for assuming it was Tru’s fault that his marriage had ended. But on the other hand, he didn’t really feel like talking about something that painful with a man who seemed perpetually angry.

  The ship alarm suddenly went off, and the warning lights along the baseboard and ceiling began throbbing red.

  Gracie warned, A malfunction has been detected in aft cannons. System overload detected, and the temperature is rising to critical. Shall I prepare the lifeboat?

  Tru inhaled and exhaled slowly. He was itching to punch someone! His patience was wearing dangerously thin.

  “No, Gracie.”

  I am not detecting anyone from engineering responding to the malfunction. Again. Should I reset the warning anyway, Truman?

  “Yes! You don’t have to ask every single time, Gracie!” True bellowed at the wall.

  After a moment she replied, I was just asking.

  He leaned against the wall and inhaled and exhaled again. “I know. I know. I’m sorry.” He turned and stormed down the hall, growling to himself, “It’ just that it’s a simple alarm malfunction. How time-consuming can it be to fix? I just want everything to just…” The alarm went off again and promptly stopped. “WORK! ”

  If his chief engineer was too lazy to fix it, he’d do it his damned self.

  Chapter 10

  COMMANDER AG, A BURLY, OUT OF SHAPE, DRASPARAH, AND THE CHIEF Engineer crawled through the access tunnel behind Tru. Behind him followed Lieutenant Dalekechi, a limber and agile black and red Quair. In these tunnels, it was apparent that Quair’s ancestors were once Formicoidea. Dalekechi had no trouble navigating these tunnels unlike the human and Drasparah ahead of him.

  “I think we should consider upgrading the injectors in this section,” Lieutenant Dalekchi said.

  “You shouldn’t think at all,” Ag snarled at the Quair.

  “You may outrank me, but you can’t stop me from thinking, Commander Ag,” Dalekchi replied.

  “Don’t bet your offspring’s life on that, Lieutenant!”

  Tru glanced at them. He wasn’t as angry as he had been a few minutes ago, but he was still unhappy with Ag. Now was not the best time to scold his chief engineer for not doing his job.


  Although, he was quick to respond today. Tru had just climbed into the access tunnels when ag Ag came running with Lieutenant Dalekchi trailing behind.

  “You know, Ag, if you had fixed this when Captain Barnett had first asked, we wouldn’t be in trouble at all.”

  “We’re not in trouble,” Ag snapped. There was a pause. “Are we in trouble?” Ag asked Tru.

  “You are,” True honestly answered. “And if I ever have to order you more than once to fix something, you’ll be fired.”

  Ag scoffed. “You don’t have a chief engineer to replace me.”

  Tru stopped and glared back at him. “Have you ever heard of a promotion?”

  The two stared at each other. Ag gave a subtle nod to Tru. Tru continued crawling, leading the way through tunnels he knew well.

  “I tried to warn you that he wouldn’t be patient for long,” Dalekchi told Ag. It wasn’t a threat or gloating – Quair weren’t capable of that, but Tru thought he probably shouldn’t have said it anyway.

  He saw the bulkhead door ahead and turned his head to tell them. The two were several meters back, stopped because Dalekchi was blocking Ag.

  “This alarm isn’t the only thing that needs to be fixed on this ship, you damned Quair!” Ag snarled. Ag let out a low, threatening growl. It was a sound Tru had never heard a Drasparah make, and judging from the way Dalekchi slowly backed up to give him space, neither had the Quair. Ag turned his head, scowling at Tru. “Which I can’t fix because your damned computer keeps blocking access to areas I need to fix! I wasn’t putting you off because I was trying to be rude, Captain; I was putting you off because it wouldn’t let me into these access tunnels. If I were you, I’d replace that computer system when we get to Righel. That thing may be the fastest computer I’ve ever worked with, and it is amazingly intuitive, but it is so buggy that it makes a simple task twice as difficult!”

  “I’ll work on getting you the access you need, Ag. Next time, just tell me that you’re having problems with Gracie, okay?”