Junker Blues: Mars: Junker Blues series

by Lon E. Varnadore

  “—online, be careful.”

  Thanks, Lash.

  “Welcome, Captain.”

  Marcus grumbled and started to read.

  Marcus settled on one elbow on the ratty couch that took up the rim of the common area of the ship. The yellow, orange, and black upholstery job, with several patchwork pieces he’d done to keep the thing in a useable condition, made it his favorite spot on the ship. When he got to the common area, he was alone and waited for Lash to return from engineering. He didn’t want to eat without her. He did notice the small tray of food she’d tied down before going to fix the deck plating.

  He settled onto the couch and waved at Lash, who waved back absentmindedly when she entered. He held a protein bar up, wiggling it as if he was about to throw it to her. She pointedly ignored him.

  Marcus opened his book and waited. He had one of his few paperback novels in hand. Treasure Island. It had been taped up more than once. He told himself he was going to get it rebound when he had a chance. Yet, that meant going to Mars since neither the Belt nor the Jovian moons had such a luxury or an antiquated thing like a bookseller or bookbinders. Since you are going back, it could happen, he thought idly. He missed Earth though he’d never been there. That thought made him hear— perhaps he subconsciously had been listening to the vid feed while reading since some kid on the program asked something that made Marcus pay attention.

  “How did the Crawl come to Earth, teacher?” A little well-dressed, dark-skinned boy in a school uniform of white and blue asked, looking towards the feed.

  The feed switched to a woman who was in a purple sweater and a long, charcoal-grey pencil skirt. She smiled, making the severe bun of dark hair and glasses clash a little. Marcus thought she couldn’t have been more than thirty. There was a matronly air to her as she spoke. “Two hundred years ago, when Humanity reached out to the stars, having founded colonies on Mars, the Belt, and even beginning work on the Jovian and Saturn satellites, an extrasolar probe struck a ship, the Hydra. The probe was destroyed in the process, but it held a virus that started to change and alter the humans of the ship. It altered their very bodies, changing their very DNA, and you know what that is, class?”

  The class gave a bored, “Yes.”

  Marcus muttered a “Yeah,” and even Lash mumbled an affirmative.

  “With their DNA altered, it made the surviving crew of the Hydra wish only to consume. It changed all of them into the Crawl.”

  There was a collective gasp from the kids. Marcus remembered when he was young, watching almost the exact same show in his school feeds. He even gave a small gasp for the reveal, although he’d known about them for some time.

  “Much of the data has been lost in what happened next except that the ship bypassed the outer colonies and made straight for Earth. The ship was destroyed before it could hit. However, a few fragments did survive. Theories state that about ten to fifteen molecules of the Hydra made it dirtside.”

  She gave a long sigh, looking down for a moment to let the kids process the idea. Yet, Marcus knew that the news wasn’t that disturbing. This was ancient Earth history. Yes, the threat was still around. Why mourn for a planet no one had walked on in over two hundred years? He knew what was coming next. He cast an eye towards Lash, and she was watching the vid feed too. Neither could stop, it was so ingrained in them to watch this show to the end.

  “That was all that was needed,” she said with concern. “It started to infect everything on Earth. Everything the virus touched. Before it could be stopped, Earth was completely infected. Mars set up a boundary around the Earth orbit, keeping anyone from crossing the line. Then, there was something called the Battle of the Line that almost wiped out the rest of Humanity.”

  Marcus knew the rest, trying to tear himself away to go back to his book. I don’t need to hear the rest of this propaganda.

  “It was only through the benefit of the Eridani, the ‘Benefactors’ that humanity was able to stop The Crawl, as the monsters come to be known, and stop them from crossing The Line. For nearly fifty years, the Eridani have helped mankind flourish on Mars, the Belt, and the outer colonies, though only those of Mars see the true benefits. Those outside of—"

  Marcus finally growled out, “Lash, would you turn that propaganda off please!” Marcus shouted, not even looking up from his book, though he had already read the same line about six times before he said anything to Lash. He slammed the book closed. Reading about Jim Hawkins and sailing on the water, the actual water, made Marcus angry. He’d never seen an actual ocean, only the older 3Ds of Earth from before the Crawl.

  “Why?” Lash asked with an innocent tone.

  He looked at her with a raised eyebrow over the top of his book, the question galling him. “Seriously?”

  She rolled her eyes. “It isn’t like many know what ‘really’ happened,” she said, popping a small nugget of protein into her mouth. “The Purge destroyed most records.”

  “Yeah, but this drivel is nothing but Eridani propaganda. You and I both know that this is complete slag,” he said, slapping the book to the table.

  “So, wouldn’t it be better to know what the enemy thinks?” Lash said with a shrug.

  Marcus sighed. He didn’t want to have enemies. He just wanted to stay out of the hands of the Eridani and stay a little ahead of his creditors like Hazon. “It’s more what the enemy wants us to think.”

  “Chow’s ready,” Lash said, flicking off the education program and putting on some light music.

  “Why do you watch that crap, really?”

  “Better than the rest of the crap on the feeds, and not all of us like to read,” Lash said.

  “It’s a classic, Lash. You should give it a shot.”

  Lash made a non-committal noise as she gulped down some water. Marcus speared another protein nugget and tore it off the bent fork. For a few moments, they ate without speaking, the only sounds the strains of the piano playing an ancient Earth tune.

  “What would you do if you could go to Earth?” Marcus asked.

  “That’s impossible,” Lash said.

  “I know, but, just for fun, a thought experiment.”

  “I’m good,” she said, pushing herself away from the table. “I’m going to the cockpit and do some course corrections.”

  Marcus nodded absently, part of his mind playing out the thoughts of his question.

  Marcus knew that it was impossible, yet for a moment, he was sure he would want to try and see an ocean up close. The planet was one giant Crawl spawning vat. Over a hundred years ago, it had been taken by the Crawl. The Eridani and the last dregs of Humanity had fought to keep the thing from sweeping past the 1.2 AU boundary that stood as the only thing between the combined Eridani and human forces. The Battle of The Line ended in a stalemate making The Line a permanent boundary. A line in the galactic void created to keep the Crawl from escaping en masse. Of course, singular drones here and there were still able to escape the patrols and wreak havoc on the rest of Sol. The Crawl were still seen and caused constant problems with the Mars Ministry, the Belt, and the Jovian moons. One of the worst was Phobos before it was cooked by the MDF’s nukes.

  Then he reminded himself that he was on the way to Mars, and in a week, he’d have to deal with that whole situation. He shoved that train of thought aside and focused on trying to read. He’d read it about fifty or sixty times, it was still his favorite book.

  He had just gotten to when Long John Silver reached down to grab an apple out of the barrel with Jim cringing inside, knowing he was about to get caught. Marcus loved this part. He was convinced Long John Silver knew that Jim—

  A klaxon went off, causing Marcus to bolt into a sitting position, the book flung aside to flutter to the floor in the .6 G gravity in the common room.

  “Lash, what in the—”

  “Ship, coming in hot,” she sent to him, fear apparent in her thought.

  Marcus cursed. “Raiders?”

  “No. I think it is Ministry,�
�� her tinny voice barked over the comms. Marcus heard the beeps from the cockpit as she punched in a series of commands. “Best I can see, yeah. There is a smudge of green on their nose.”

  Slag, they find us with this cargo, we’re done. “Shit, we need to—”

  The comms crackled for a moment, then a crisp, educated voice rang out. “Ahoy, Bearing-Class Cargo ship, serial X8721094, classified Junker.”

  They are overriding our comms? Slagging Hells!

  “This is the Ministry ship, Harkness. Decelerate and prepare to be boarded for inspection, or we will be forced to open fire.”

  “For what?” Marcus shouted, not expecting a response. For a moment, he flinched when the voice came on again, then realized it was the same message as before. “Wide band?” He asked Lash.

  “Yes.”

  So, they expect us to stop? A hint of a plan started to filter through his head. “I think we might have a way out.” It was a desperate move for them, but when are you not desperate?

  “Well, Captain. What shall we do?” Lash asked, appearing in the hatch between the corridor to the cockpit and the common area. She looked at him with one eyebrow ridge cocked. She could tell he was working on something.

  There was a part of him that wanted to rabbit. It was his go-to. And, if they didn’t do the hard burn to Mars, he would have done that. Not this time, he said to himself. It would cause problems. Can’t run from all of them, can you? Marcus was annoyed that those words came to his mind, sounding like his wife. Better to play along. He looked at her and grinned. “We should do as they say. The probe secure? Won’t be much chance if they find illegal salvage.”

  “Is it illegal? It’s as secure as I can make it. Still gives me the chills.” Lash said, not able to hide a shiver. “What are we going to do about me?”

  “Still have those papers from Hazon’s man you had drawn up?” Marcus asked, the plan coming to his mind as he asked. “And yes, I think that whatever we took from Shelby could be illegal. Keeping it hidden is our best bet.”

  Lash gave him a dark look. “Are you serious? I am not—”

  He cut her off with a hand motion. “Do you want to be taken in, or better yet killed, and they collect the bounty? I can—"

  Lash waved her hand to stop him. “Fine, I’ll go put on my costume,” she said, her voice dripping with venom.

  “I think they call it a uniform, sweetie,” Marcus said, trying to get into character. He watched Lash’s retreating form. He didn’t need to change what he was wearing; the disheveled look helped with this small con. Looking down at his rumpled shirt and pants, they looked worn and old. Good. This will work.

  “You sure?” Lash sent.

  “Darling,” he said in a falsetto that grated on his ears, then used his own voice, “Don’t worry. Trust me.” The last words coming out like the creepiest of all used spaceship dealers. “You’re a sexy—"

  “Don’t get any ideas,” she sent. Lash threw him an even darker look as she moved to another hatch down the corridor Marcus could see from the common room. She continued to glower at him as she slipped into her own quarters.

  Marcus then realized she hadn’t slowed down the Junker when she had come to ask what they were doing. He rolled his eyes. “Guess, I’ll go and slow the ship down,” he sniffed while pushing through the same corridor she’d left to head towards the cockpit.

  “Yes, you should… Master. I am just a stupid Spider girl, remember!” Lash shouted out through the voice box. It was robotic, yet even with the heavily modulated voice, Marcus could catch the sarcasm and anger.

  It still made him laugh hearing the near-female robotic voice. It was even funnier hearing her getting into her own “character.”

  Marcus made his way to the cockpit, climbing into the half-sphere and starting to punch away at the controls to slow the Junker. He also muted the broadcast which was still cycling through the comms. Once done, he pushed out of the pilot chair. He climbed towards the secondary controls where he found the small safe he had installed along the side of the console to hold permits. Most permits were printed on etched metal with a small chip embedded along one side as identifiers. There would be a record of the permit for anything from ship ownership, which he pulled out, to licenses to be a long hauler, trash scow, toxic hauler, or even a passenger carrier. Most of those permits were even legitimate, but he had to go to one side of the safe, tapping in a small code on the hidden number pad at the side. It wasn’t a typical illuminated pad. He had to do it from memory with where the pad was, trying to remember which numbers were where, since each number pad was installed in a different place than the norm. The random placement would throw off some, others would be able to line up the real number pad in their heads.

  The concealed unit popped open with the more… morally grey permits. Keeping indentured people and sex slaves for profit. Hazon and his group had told Marcus that it was the best thing to have in case he wanted to make sure “his pet Ilas” was safe from bounty hunting. The Ministry did not outlaw Ilas working in brothels or part of the “independent” sex trades. They encouraged it in some outlier colonies and on the moons of Deimos and Phobos. Well, only Deimos. Even indentured workers, which to some extent Lash was, weren’t exactly illegal to the Ministry.

  Marcus knew it was the only way to keep Lash safe when they had taken off. He had hoped not to use it after coming out here. But then, I didn’t expect to come back to Mars except feet-first, he thought. And even dead, he’d prefer to be ashed before touching down on Mars.

  When Lash had helped him on Deimos and joined Junker, Marcus knew she would be trouble. She was an Ilas. A hybrid created human from a shadowy Mars government facility with Eridani backing. He wasn’t sure about the last part, but while he was in the “Saved” movement, he had heard rumors. All of the records had been lost when the facility was destroyed years ago with only whispers of why they were created still existing. The one Marcus believed the most was that the Eridani had something to do with the Ilas being a weapon against the Crawl. Yet, a handful of the Ilas had found work as pleasure slaves for those with exotic tastes, and Lash had to be one for a short time. He hoped these guys didn’t want to sample “his” merchandise. It wouldn’t be pleasant… for them.

  Ready to meet them, Master? Lash asked in his head. Even in his head, her voice was more subdued and passive.

  He turned around to see she was wearing a golden bra that accentuated her slim bust and a bronze skirt very high above the knee, with slits up the sides to her waist allowing tantalizing glimpses of snow-white flesh. Her stance was meeker than he had thought possible. She was good at reading people and knew how and when to appear more or less meek. He glimpsed a small baton strapped to her leg. He had seen what she could do with that collapsible baton on more than one occasion. His knee throbbed in a phantom pain from when she had hit him there in a brawl.

  “I did apologize for that,” Lash spat out, leering at him before turning her head in a pout.

  “Out of my head, Spider.”

  She glared and rolled her eyes. She then crossed her arms in the strange hug-like way over her bust and waited, looking self-conscious. “Well?”

  She seemed to change again to a more passive woman. Marcus gave her the once-over as she stood there, head hanging down a little, turning away in a coy manner. Her one hand rubbing at her other arm in a show of faux-innocent nervousness. At least, he thought it was fake.

  He nodded. “Looking good, Lash. Maybe you should keep that up after they leave.” He gave a small laugh and a wink. He swallowed hard seeing the twisted and furious look she gave back before it melted into her coy look again.

  “Don’t push it.”

  “What? You know I’m kidding. Come on, Lash, it’s a joke. We have been over this before. It’s—”

  Again, the comms cut in, and the volume was artificially raised by several decibels. “Ahoy, Junker, please have your credentials ready when we board. This is your only warning.”

  Slag. For
got to turn that back on. The fact the comms had been pirated again meant they hadn’t gotten the all-clear, and by the book, they had to give them one more chance.

  Marcus hesitated, doing the math in his head. Stunned, he thought they had more time. He looked at Lash, who started to move away from him towards the docking bay with the small mincing steps of a slave. Marcus started with, “How did they…”

  “Who knows,” Lash said, cutting him off.

  There was a sound of a docking clamp grabbing the Junker, and the sudden deceleration of movement knocked Marcus off his feet. He grabbed at a bulkhead to keep himself from falling. Wait, falling? He realized that the Harkness had done something to the Junker’s deck plating. Still, he didn’t have time to dwell.

  “Lash, wait. Do you remember what name we—”

  “Tabitha, or Tabby,” Lash responded in his head.

  “Lash, come on. You know I don’t like—”

  “Please, come along… Master.” The last word was filled with more venom then Marcus thought possible coming from Lash.

  Marcus felt disoriented for a moment. He followed the moving form of Lash as the Ministry ship hove-to, coming alongside to dock. There was the klaxon from the ship’s sensors as it started. How did they get here so fast? We shouldn’t have been able to get that far. I slowed the engines. He felt befuddled. Something was not right here.

  His hand went to his plasma thrower. He didn’t like going in armed, not with the Ministry Troops incoming. They’d want him unarmed and might cause a stink seeing the weapon, but he felt that it would provide some comfort. He started down towards the main cargo bay of the Junker, though his gut felt twisted up. Something’s very wrong.

  Walking through the main corridor of the ship to the docking bay, Marcus’ jaw dropped. Four Martian Federation troops were already in his hold. Lash spun around, looking at him, startled. They were not the usual Ministry goons. They were in fully armored suits, rifles out and sweeping the cargo bay. As soon as Marcus appeared, two trained their muzzles on him. “Hands!” They all shouted.