Black Sheep

by Rachel Aukes

  “That would explain how the Gabriela is running under its own power,” Throttle said and then hit the armrest with her fist. “The bastards used smoke and mirrors to flush us out of our own ship.”

  Birk shrugged. “Like I said, it was a smart plan. I’m a pirate, and I hadn’t even considered that we were getting played when we were back on the Gabriela.”

  “But what’s going to happen to the sleepers when they find out that there’re still people on board?” Sylvian asked, frowning.

  Birk scowled. “Back when I flew with the Honorless, we never took passengers. Most pirates didn’t deal with passengers because they could be a real hassle. Generally, you either leave them behind on their ship, or you’d just…leave them behind. The pirates who took passengers took them for only one reason. There’s good money in slavery.”

  Sylvian shook her head. “But that was back home. These guys’ star system might not deal in slavery.”

  “Wherever there’s people, there’s slavery. Trust me,” Birk said.

  Throttle breathed deeply. While she hated the idea that the sleepers were now prisoners, that they were alive was the only thing that mattered. Everything else was just details that she’d take care of after getting them back safely.

  “I have completed my calculations,” Rusty said. “I’m highly confident the space bend will bring us out into the Ross system.”

  “Good. Let’s go get them,” she said.

  “I can’t enter jump speed at this time, as my solar arrays are drained,” Rusty said.

  “What is the estimated time to recharge?” she asked.

  “Estimated time to recharge is forty-three minutes.”

  “Have the ship ready to jump the moment it has enough charge to do so.” Throttle tapped her comm. “Eddy, we’re going to make more jumps, so do what you need to do to prepare.”

  “What I need is to print hardware that’s rightsized for this beast before we make any more jumps, or else we’re going to end up with another cat fail. But I bet we won’t be so lucky as to come across another Javelin out here.”

  Throttle bit the inside of her cheek as Eddy’s voice climbed an octave. When he finished, she tried to speak calmly. “Eddy, parking for repairs is not an option right now. Pirates have run off with the Gabriela. We have to make more jumps so we don’t lose them, which means I need you to find a way to secure the patched hardware. When we take back the Gabriela, you can print everything you need.” She tapped her comm to end the relay and looked to Birk. “Why aren’t you back there helping him?”

  Birk raised his hands in mock surrender. “He sent me up here to tell you not to make any more jumps.”

  Her lips thinned.

  Birk gave a solemn nod. “I know, I know. I’m heading back there to talk Eddy down. Again. We’ll keep this bucket of bolts together and go get our people back.”

  Throttle unhooked her seat harness and pushed up from the panel. “Wait. We’ll talk to him together.”

  Forty-three minutes later, the Javelin entered jump speed. Six minutes after that, Rusty dropped the ship out of jump speed.

  “What happened?” Throttle asked as she pulled herself back into her seat from getting knocked to the floor.

  “Apologies, Throttle,” Rusty said. “My sensors picked up objects that could pose a risk to our flight path. My protocols state to transition immediately to sub-speeds to prevent danger to my systems and crew.”

  She frowned. They were on the same flight path as the pirates. Had the pirates struck something? “Show me what your sensors caught.”

  The data on Throttle’s screen was replaced by an image of three white dots. She zoomed in, and the dots became cylinders.

  Her blood went cold. “Rusty, scan those cryopods for signs of life.”

  To her right, Nolin and Sylvian gasped and murmured.

  Rusty spoke. “They are too far out for my sensors to pick up any biological signatures. However, a heat scan indicates the objects have leveled out at the same temperature as the surrounding space, at three point seven kelvin. If there are occupants in those pods, survival without protective gear would be impossible.”

  Throttle’s jaw clenched. Unlike ships’ emergency evacuation pods, cryopods were not sealed against the cold vacuum of space. The rock in her gut told her that those pods still had their sleepers.

  “Why would they do such a thing?” Sylvian asked quietly.

  “They’re trying to slow us down,” Nolin answered.

  “But they’d have to drop out of jump speed to—to do that.”

  Throttle forced her breathing to return to normal. “We know the Gabriela’s jump speeds are slower than ours. They’ve probably figured that out, too. So they dropped out just long enough to jettison a few pods before jumping again. They knew the pods would not only make us drop out, but that we’d stop long enough to check out pods.” She swallowed. “Rusty, have you picked up any more pods on our flight path?”

  “I can only scan the length of one sector at a time. My sensors haven’t picked up any more objects in this sector.”

  “There will be more,” Throttle said grimly before adding, “Get back to jump speed. We’re not going to let them get away.”

  Chapter Six

  Eighteen.

  That was the number of sleepers who’d been jettisoned in their cryopods in the space bend along the way to the Ross system. That they died in their sleep, with no pain, mattered little to Throttle. She thought she’d lost the colonists once when she abandoned the Gabriela to search for help. Once she’d learned there was hope for their survival, it carved a deep wound inside her to see their deaths needlessly take place one by one.

  The Javelin dropped out of jump speed for the final time at the edge of the Ross system, where the red dwarf star shone like a distant lighthouse calling them to shore. A small white and gray ice world sat glistening nearby. There were several more planets in that star system, too far to see with the naked eye, including the one that the sleepers Throttle’s crew had been transporting were going to call home.

  “My sensors indicate there are multiple ships in this sector, including the Gabriela and the less than friendly ship accompanying it,” Rusty announced.

  Throttle searched for the ship through the window. “Where are they?”

  “They have docked at an artificial structure in orbit around the dwarf planet nearest us. It looks to be a space station, but the planet is blocking my scans.”

  Within seconds, the communication channel chimed.

  “We’re receiving an incoming transmission. It is a space station,” Rusty announced.

  Throttle nodded. “Connect us.”

  “This is the West network of the Jade-8 Terra orbital colony. You have entered our airspace. Relay your spacecraft credentials.”

  Throttle spoke. “Jade-8, this is galactic exploration ship SR9104-73. We would like permission to dock.”

  A long minute later, the station responded, “We have no record of a ship with the N-number SR9104-73, and we’re unable to determine your ship’s model. Verify.”

  She’d expected that, knowing the Javelin had likely been removed from the ship registry many decades earlier. “That number is correct. We’re from the Trappist system, so my ship may not be in your registry.”

  This time, a couple of minutes passed before a response came. “Dock at West bay nineteen. Relaying docking procedures now.”

  “I have received and inputted docking procedures. With your permission, I’ll autopilot, maneuver, and initiate docking sequence with the station,” Rusty said.

  “Do it,” Throttle said.

  Rusty announced to the ship, “Crew, prepare for docking in twenty-four minutes.”

  Throttle pushed to her feet, eyed her two crew members on the bridge, and then broadcast to the ship, “All crew to the galley for a briefing in five.”

  She headed to the galley, the largest common area on the ship, and made herself a cup of nicotea while she waited for the crew,
the nicotine in the tea supplying her senses with more acuity almost instantly. All seven members arrived shortly after. Throttle looked across their faces. All looked alert, though Eddy and Aubree looked nervous, as they often did during uncertain times.

  She began, “This will be our first in-person contact with these people, who may or may not be associated with the pirates who stole the Gabriela. That means we don’t have any idea what we’ll find at this station. If you have extra weapons, now’s the time to have them easily accessible, though keep them relatively concealed. We want to look prepared, not aggressive.”

  Birk eyed the knives strapped on Throttle’s thighs, the pistols on her hips, and then made eye contact with a raised brow.

  “Well, we don’t want to look overly aggressive,” she added. “Birk, Nolin, and Finn are with me. That leaves Sylvian, Eddy, Aubree, and Garrett back at the ship. Sylvian and Eddy, that should give you extra time to work on Rusty, so we don’t have to be worried every time we jump.”

  “Oh, good,” Eddy said with a loud sigh, and everyone looked at him. “What? I don’t want to leave the ship. Who knows what you’ll find out there? There could be criminals or, worse, sick people out there.”

  “I should come in case things turn sour,” Garrett said.

  Throttle shook her head. “No. I need you back on the ship in case anyone tries to break in.” She glanced up at the speakers. “Rusty, I want you to lock down your flight systems. We all know there are pirates around, and I want to make sure no one tries to run off with the Javelin. If anyone who’s not a part of this crew tries to get on board without my permission, launch whatever defensive protocols you’ve got to protect the crew.”

  “I will lock down my flights systems as soon as we are safely docked. You have nothing to worry about. My priority is to protect my crew, Throttle,” Rusty said.

  “Good.” She looked across her crew again. “Now, let’s get ready to meet people from a different star system.”

  As the crew dispersed, Birk sidled up next to Throttle. “You think these people will be any better than the ones back home?”

  “Until we know for sure, I’m going to assume they’re not.”

  “And if they’re worse?”

  “I’m going to need these.” She pulled out and twirled knives in both hands before sheathing them.

  He pulled out the pistol in his hip holster and looked at it for a moment. “I’d better grab a bigger gun,” he said, turned on his heel, and left the galley.

  Throttle returned to the bridge in time to see the space station come into view. It was a monstrosity of metal, plastic, and carbon fiber, a maze of cubes and connecting cylinders, as though it’d been built piecemeal over many years. All of it spun, likely to support a gravity platform. She couldn’t separate the original station from all the add-ons and wondered what the purpose of the place was. Back home, space docks were used for refueling or for building and maintaining ships. This station was big enough and odd looking enough that it could’ve been used for all that and more.

  Dozens of oblong cylinders poked out from the outer edges, and she counted at least twenty ships of various sizes docked on them. There. On the far side of the station—the opposite side to which the Javelin was flying, sat the Gabriela. It was docked alone on one such cylinder, nearly camouflaged by structures built out from the central part of the station.

  “Rusty, you see the Gabriela over there?”

  “I see it through my sensors,” Rusty said.

  “Keep an eye on it. Let me know if it moves,” she said.

  “I don’t have eyes, but I assure you my sensor array is superior to all human senses.”

  Throttle sighed. “That’s what I meant, Rusty.”

  “I thought you were anthropomorphizing me. I understand now that you were simply using humanlike vernacular in addressing my components. I will adjust my responses for future conversations.”

  “At least you’re learning,” she said as her focus turned to the dock they approached. The number nineteen was painted in large numbers above an airlock along the side of a large tube. There was a small ship about the size of the Scorpia docked at the next airlock to the right. As the Javelin approached the airlock, cables sprang out from the station and connected to the ship like magnets.

  “Restraining cables?” Throttle asked aloud.

  “That is my assumption,” Rusty replied.

  Throttle’s eyes narrowed as she felt the ship connect to the airlock. “I want you to have your reno-bots programmed to detach any physical restraining systems should they try to keep us here.”

  “I will, but that means I will need to reallocate them from Eddy’s projects.”

  “Do it.” She blew out a breath and took one last look at the station before them. “Okay. Wish us luck.”

  “May you not require luck, Throttle,” Rusty said.

  She headed to the airlock, where she met the three crew members going into the station with her. Birk had swapped his smaller pistol for a full-sized projectile-style handgun and had a bag slung over his shoulder that she knew to be filled with all the tools a pirate often needed. Nolin had a photon pistol holstered at his hip and wore a backpack. Finn had no obvious weapons, but he wore a jacket that she hadn’t seen him wear before, and she suspected the veteran soldier wasn’t wearing it for warmth.

  Throttle wore the most visible weapons with four knives and two pistols on the outside of her chime suit, and she had another three blades concealed under her suit. She’d worn that arsenal for over fifteen years and would feel naked with even one fewer weapon. She was leaving her rifle behind, and she craved to have something to hold. Instead, she cracked her knuckles and stepped into the Javelin’s airlock. The other three followed, and the door behind them closed.

  “A secure seal has been established. Opening outer airlock door,” Rusty announced the second before the door opened.

  The station’s airlock door was already open, and a man wearing a business suit and glasses stood before her. A guard stood to either side, each holding a rifle. She’d expected these people to look different, but they were much the same height, same skin colors, everything.

  The man gave a slight nod. “I am Don Simon. Welcome to Jade-8 West.”

  “I’m Halit Reyne, captain of the Javelin and the Gabriela. This is my crew.” She motioned to the three men with her.

  “Is this all of your crew?” Don asked.

  She cocked her head. “Why do you ask?”

  “Since your ship is not in the registry, Mr. West needs to validate all members of your crew for access to Jade-8.”

  “This is all of them,” she lied.

  He nodded and then gestured to the corridor length behind him. “I will take you to meet Mr. West now.”

  As they strode through the dirty white tube, Don glanced at Throttle. “I should warn you, weapons are allowed on Jade-8, but we have a no-strike policy. Commit even one misdemeanor, and you lose the right to carry weapons anywhere on Jade-8.” He tapped his glasses. “And that includes you and your crew’s concealed weapons as well.”

  “We don’t intend to cause trouble,” Throttle said. “We’re just here to pick up some stolen property, and then we’ll be on our way.”

  When they reached the end of the corridor, Don led them into an elevator. He stepped in and motioned; then Throttle and her team stepped into the windowless brown box with chipped paint. Don’s two goons stepped in last and blocked the door. Throttle might have been concerned if they hadn’t given her their backs. Since they faced away, she found herself relax somewhat as the doors closed and the elevator climbed.

  Every ten seconds or so, the elevator would stop and move horizontally before beginning its climb once again. The elevator moved slowly, and the minutes dragged by.

  Birk gave a drawn-out sigh. “Well, this is exciting.”

  Her lips curled upward.

  The elevator chimed.

  “We are here,” Don said.

  The guard
s stepped out as soon as the door opened. Don walked alongside Throttle, forcing her crew members to walk behind her.

  They strode through another hallway, this one shorter and nicer than the other. The paint wasn’t chipped, and paintings were hung on the walls. The art was odd and looked like someone had simply dipped a brush in paint and splattered it across a canvas. Each painting had a title stamped on a brass plate. She passed by “Sunset,” followed by “Sunrise,” though she couldn’t make out a star in either piece.

  The door at the end of the hallway opened, and Don led the way through while the guards filtered to either side. Throttle gave her crew a glance before leading them through the doorway.

  “Here are the Freelanders to see you, Mr. West,” Don said and immediately moved to stand near the wall.

  A white man had been leaning back in a chair, with his feet propped up on the desk, and looking at a flexible screen he held. Upon their entry, he stood and walked around the desk to stand before Throttle. He was dressed far more casually than Don; Throttle would’ve guessed that the two men’s roles were flip-flopped, with Mr. West working for Don Simon rather than the other way around.

  Mr. West looked at Throttle and cocked his head. “But you’re not Freelanders. You’re Trappists. That makes you far more interesting.”

  “We’re from the Trappist system,” Throttle clarified.

  He smiled and shook his head. “Trappists are practically a myth. An exceptionally violent sect of Solsters who abandoned everyone and everything linked to their history. The rumors were that they killed themselves off through constant strife. No one’s ever seen a Trappist before. I don’t think anyone believed they still existed. I feel privileged for the opportunity to be meeting you today.”