by Alex Kings
A group of ribbon-like effector fields emerged from Kaivon's suit and slipped into the bundle of pipes. He worked his way carefully through them and felt at a coolant pipe at the back. It had started to sound a little too loud for his liking in the run-up to a jump.
As he expected, it had come loose from its bracket. This barely counted as a technical problem, but sometimes it was the little things like this that could leave you stranded in deep space.
A small tray on his suit came out to reveal several small transparent blocks. With an effector field, he took out one of the blocks and closed the tray again.
The block was clay – a generic type of smart matter that could change colour, shape, and adhesive properties, and do very little else. It ranked alongside duct tape as the tool he used most often.
He fashioned it into a bracket shape, and used to it hold the pipe down.
*
Just past midnight, ship time.
In the observation lounge, Rurthk went to the fridge and pulled out two cartons with different species labels. One contained the processed fermented blood of a plentiful beast native to the Glaber homeworld, mixed with various anticoagulants and spices. The other was a gin and tonic.
He threw the latter to Eloise, then flopped into the chair opposite her. Through the window, the faint reddish wisps of a nebula were faintly visible smeared between the stars.
Eloise poured her gin and tonic into a small tumbler. “Any luck with the Jotunn Gang job?”
Rurthk tore the tip of the carton and took a drink from the carton. It was foul stuff. Blended – the cheapest available.
“No,” he said, grimacing. “They're not returning my calls. I'm starting to worry the Twins have a little more influence than we thought.”
Eloise considered this. “If they do, well … screw them. Far worse people have tried to clip our wings, and look, Rur.” She swept her palm across the breadth of the window. “We're still flying. If you're still flying, you're winning.”
That had been their motto from the beginning, when it was just the two of them, when they first found the Outsider.
He laughed softly and allowed himself a rare smile, but after he'd taken another swig, it was gone. “When I was facing off against the Twins, Dora said I was too honourable. 'That's why you're still a small time criminal.'”
“She was trying to get to you,” said Eloise. “Psychological warfare was always the Twins' favourite tactic.”
“I thought so too,” said Rurthk. “But it's stuck with me. I had them, Eloise. I didn't even have to do anything. I could've let Mero kill them. But I stopped him. And now, here they are, eager to make me pay for that mercy.”
Eloise was silent for some time, turning her tumbler back and forth while looking at the surface. “Do you want to be able to kill with impunity?”
“It would make life a hell of a lot easier,” growled Rurthk.
“That's not what I asked.”
Rurthk snorted, finished his carton in a few gulps, and crushed it. “And do I want to be a big time criminal, a gang leader like the Twins are playing at? The answer to both is no. I chose this life.” He placed the crushed carton on the table.
Eloise leant back in her chair. “Good,” she said. “We've been friends for, what, eleven years now? I'd hate for it to end just because you felt like turning into a stone cold killer.” She took the carton and idly began straightening it out.
“As long as you're still flying, you're still winning,” said Rurthk.
*
Dr. Wolff was reading a book in the lounge when Kaivon approached him.
“Kaivon, my boy! What can I do for you?”
“Hello, Doctor. I am … in some distress.”
Wolff closed the book and stood. He put a hand on the middle section of Kaivon's suit, as though it were a shoulder. “Well, then, we'd best get you to the medical bay!
As they headed down the corridor, Dr. Wolf's eyes gleamed with excitement. “Good Lord, how long has it been since I last saw you? It feels like all my work for the last year has been nothing but setting broken bones and fixing bullet holes. Now tell me, what sort of distress?”
They entered the medical bay, Kaivon gliding on his effector fields behind Dr. Wolff.
“I have detected chemical abnormalities, including an increase in organic polymers, inside my suit. I have some trouble breathing. Several of my components are in pain. One may be near death. The effect seems to be localised in my middle segment.”
Wolff thought about this. “It may be an infection, but that seems unlikely. I need a sample of your water. And one of your … uh … components.”
“Of course,” said Kaivon. He took the jar Dr. Wolff offered him in red effector field ribbon and held it up to a port on the top segment of his suit. A second effector field formed a glowing tube, extending from the port to the top of the jar. Water flowed smoothly through the tube. After a moment, a tiny creature popped out and fell into the jar.
When the jar was full, Kaivon closed the port and gave it to Dr. Wolff.
Dr. Wolff peered at it. The water was slightly cloudy. The creature darting back and forth inside was about an inch and a half long, coloured in luminous blues and yellows. Its fins and ruffles fluttered in water. It was slightly asymmetric – one set of gill ruffles was clearly inflamed.
Dr. Wolff took a sample of the water, a swab of the creature's skin, and a tissue sample from its gill ruffle.
The results came in almost immediately: Chemical analyses, counts of biomolecules, and half a dozen other graphs. After studying the wealth of data for a few moments, he said, “It looks like your ecosystem is out of balance. One of the symbiotic bacterial strains in this little fella's gills is suffering a population collapse.” He gestured at the screen a few more times. “I see … have you installed any modifications to your suit with gamma-type fluorosilicone bearings?”
Kaivon thought for a moment. “Yes,” he said.
“On the inside?”
“Partly, yes.”
“What segment?”
“The middle.”
“Well, there you go,” said Dr. Wolff. “I suspect it's leaking fluorosilicone polymer fragments into your water. The bacteria mistake it for food, try to consume, and die. Without them around, other bacterial strains are getting into your gill ruffles and causing inflammation.”
“I …” began Kaivon. He fell silent.
“See, my boy?” said Dr. Wolff with a big smile. He shifted his bulk from the chair and went over to the bio-assembler. “Now you see how we feel when you go on about the ship's inflaton oscillators.”
“Can it be fixed?” said Kaivon.
“Absolutely. I'm cultivating that bacterial strain right now. It should be ready in an hour. In the meantime, I suggest you rip out that thing and run your water through a filter.”
“I shall do so now, Doctor.”
“Kaivon. One more thing.”
“Yes?”
“How much longer are you going to keep modifying your suit?”
“I … couldn't say.”
“You got off lightly this time, but that's not always going to be the case. There are a dozen other things that could go wrong, all of them lethal. Heavy ion solutions, nutrient imbalances, substandard oxygenation …”
“I am aware of Albascene suit systems, Doctor.”
“Then you should also be aware that even with the best engineering skill in the world, things go wrong. Especially when you've got a bunch of jury-rigged systems that weren't designed to work together.”
“Perhaps,” said Kaivon. “Nevertheless, I trust in my skills and yours to reduce the risk sufficiently.” He paused, and the upper and middle segments of his suit turned in opposite directions. “I understand the risk doctor. But I am not the only one subject to it. We all rely on the Outsider and its environmental systems. I have worked on those too, and many are jury-rigged, as you say.”
After a moment, Dr. Wolff laughed. “Yes!” he said. “If yo
u're mad for doing this, perhaps we're all mad for being here. Now run along, my boy, and pull out that modification, would you?”
“Of course, Doctor.” Kaivon glided out of the medical bay of his effector fields, closing the door behind him.
Dr. Wolff's smile faded. He looked at the little fishlike creature, a separated part of Kaivon's body. It was fluttering around in a sort of panic, looking for the rest of its kind.
“Yes,” he murmured to himself. “Perhaps we are all mad for being here. I'm quite sure I am, at any rate.” He sat down at the bio-assembler to check on the bacterial cultures.
*
“If all goes well,” said Eloise, “Rurthk and I won't be dragging you into too many gunfights. Shooting things tends to create a god-awful mess, so it's generally a final recourse. And, unless you're very special indeed, you're not going to become a sharpshooter anytime soon.”
“Okay,” Olivia said in a small voice. She felt like that wasn't nearly as reassuring as Eloise hoped it would be.
They stood together in the Outsider's empty cargo hold. Eloise had set up a line of empty water cartons on an extendible table by the main doors. The door mechanisms, she had assured Olivia, were quite immune to small arms fire – a fact the crew had learned through experience.
“The first thing you need to know,” Eloise went on, “is that you don't need to fire a gun to be helpful. Just having it out and aimed means whoever's facing you is going to think twice before running into your field of fire, see?”
Olivia nodded.
“But even so, knowing how to shoot is still a help. Even if it's not that great a shot, and even if it's just one bullet, it can make a difference.” Eloise frowned. “Unless you're facing a Varanid … but never mind that for the moment.” She took a pistol off the table and handed it to Olivia. “This is a Risser Model 6 Coilgun. Easy to handle, easy to conceal, not too much recoil. You have nine shots before you need to reload. Just hold it for a moment and see how it feels.”
“It's heavier than it looks,” said Olivia.
“It is. Hold on. Put your index finger here.” Eloise demonstrated. “Now, this is the safety. It's on right now. Always keep it on unless you're in a situation where you expect to fire. Keep your finger outside the trigger guard until you're actually going to fire.” She steadied Olivia's arm. “Keep your arm up – don't let it wander all over the place. You need to get used to the weight of the gun.”
Olivia corrected everything, then waited.
“Ready to shoot?”
“I guess so.”
“Keep a firm grip on the handle. Take the safety off. Put your finger on the trigger and fire once. Then put the safety back on.”
Olivia reached up slowly and flicked the switch. She felt the handle give a short, gentle buzz. A subtle signal to remind her what she was holding. She pulled the trigger.
There was a sharp crack as the capacitors inside the pistol discharged a brief but immense current into the coils. The handle kicked against her hand, like the pistol was trying to fight its way out of her grip. A bullet clanged against the wall. None of the cartons moved.
When Olivia had put the safety back on, Eloise resumed her lecture. “That's what recoil feels like.”
“This is ‘not too much recoil’!?” Olivia asked.
Eloise grinned. “All the advanced technology in the galaxy can't stop Newton's third. Even gravity generators and effector fields feel a balanced force from whatever they're moving. Lasers don't have recoil, of course, but they have their own disadvantages. They're more fragile than kinetics. And if the person you're facing has silvered layers to their armour, the reflection can be strong enough to blind you. Mostly, though, if you learn to shoot with a laser, you won't be able to handle a kinetic. So that's why we start with kinetics. Now, let's shoot again. This time, fire all your remaining bullets. Pause, breathe, and steady your aim for each one. Put the safety on again when you're done. And remember aim at the carton, but don't worry about hitting it.”
Olivia did so. On her seventh attempt, the middle carton burst open and toppled off the table. Filled with pride, Olivia went after the one beside it. She missed both times.
“Good,” said Eloise, picking up a clip. “Now this is how you reload.”
“You know,” said Olivia, as she followed Eloise's instructions, “when I saw you at the spaceport, I never imagined you'd ever become my firearm teacher.”
Eloise returned a proud smile. “I'm more than just a pretty face.”
“What about that crazy cool martial arts stuff you used on that guy? Can you teach me that?”
“Maybe. But not unless you correct your posture. Like this, see? And what did I tell you about the trigger guard?”
“Oh. Sorry.”
Half an hour later, Olivia was able to hit the cartons with some regularity.
“Very good,” said Eloise. “Keep this up, and you'll be contributing to the missions in no time.”
Olivia looked at her, a smile crossing her face.
Then she steadied her grip on the pistol, took a deep breath, lined up her aim, and fired.
The carton burst open.
Chapter 13: No Money
An alien plant resembling fluffy green felt covered the ground, coating the rolling hills in the background. In this ecosystem, it took the place of grass. In places, it had paled and died, giving way to patches of dusty, red ground. Strong afternoon sun beat down on everything.
Hundreds of market stalls were arrayed on it in a chaotic, barely organised fashion. Aliens bustled about, talking, trading, shouting, and sometimes fighting. Off to the side, ships lines up, parked on the ground. Wooden poles delineated their spaces.
Rurthk and Kaivon stood in front of one of the stalls, negotiating with an old Varanid who kept one massive hand clamped around a set of Alfvén coils.
“They're scuffed,” observed Rurthk, pointing at the marks. “And I can smell early signs of electrical decay from here. They're worth three hundred if I'm being generous.”
The Varanid's giant head swung slowly from Rurthk to the coils and back again. His patterned red and green scales were going pale with age. “Six hundred credits,” he said.
Rurthk growled deep in his throat.
“It's hard to tell what the operational lifetime is,” said Kaivon. “Without directly inspecting the coils.”
The Varanid considered this. At last, he held up a single claw-tipped finger. “One effector field,” he said.
A glowing red transparent ribbon snaked out of Kaivon's suit.
The Varanid held up his hand. “Weaker,” he said.
Kaivon's effector field became even more transparent until it was little more than a faint red glow, barely visible in the sunlight.
“Go on,” said the Varanid.
The field pushed into a tiny opening in the casing. Rurthk waited for Kaivon to finish his investigation. Kaivon's manner gave nothing away.
The segments of Kaivon's suit twisted slightly as he withdrew the ribbon of effector field. “It is not of high quality,” he said.
The Varanid sighed. “And I can always sell it to someone who thinks it is. It's an essential item. Not hard to find another buyer. Five hundred, and no less.”
“Four-fifty.”
The Varanid sighed and looked away.
Rurthk led Kaivon away. “Are you sure this is absolutely necessary?” he asked.
“They are optional,” said Kaivon, “for people who don't mind freezing to death in interstellar space.”
Rurthk growled. “Fine.” He gave Kaivon the money. “Do not let him try and charge more than five hundred, alright?”
“Understood, Captain,” said Kaivon, and glided off in his effector fields.
Rurthk looked after him and sighed.
It had been a month since their run-in with the Twins. Since then, business hadn't been great, to say the least. A few paltry jobs running goods between planets had earned them enough to keep the Outsider flying, but not much
more than that.
He activated his comms. “Eloise, we're over budget.”
“Oh, goody,” said Eloise. There was an edge in her voice that even Rurthk had rarely heard. “How much?”
“Hundred credits.”
“I'll see what I can do.”
*
Olivia stood looking longingly at an aisle of fresh fruit and vegetables, grown, according to the human behind the stall, in his local greenhouse. Behind her, Eloise finished her call and came back over.
“Bad news,” Eloise said. “We're a hundred credits over. And …”
“First to go are the nonessentials,” finished Olivia. “I know.” Sighing, she turned away from the stall.
They ambled through the market. Eloise turned rolled her hand-painted parasol back and forth.
Olivia extended a tablet and recalculated, mapping their budget against foods that could fit the nutritional profiles are the whole crew.
“How does it look?” said Eloise.
“Not so great,” said Olivia. “Right now we're down to mycoprotein and blue-green algae.”
Eloise came to a halt. She closed her eyes and shuddered. After a moment she stated walking again, and said with a slightly forced gaiety, “Well, at least we don't have to worry about arguments over who gets the last piece of fruit!”
Olivia trailed after her.
*
A couple of hours later, the Outsider was stocked with several containers of grey and luminous blue sludge, and Kaivon had replaced the Alfvén coils. Their remaining money totalled eight credits.
Rurthk was in the cockpit when his tablet chimed.
He extended it, read the message, and swore in Glaber.
Then he called everyone to the observation lounge.
“What's so frigging urgent, then?” Mero said once they were all gathered. He hung from the ceiling by his feet. Behind him, the oval window looked out onto the awnings of market stalls.
“We have a job,” said Rurthk, laying a tablet on the table. “Expenses paid up front. Eight hundred thousand credits.”