The Slip: The Complete First Season

by Herschel K. Stroganoff

  “This is boring,” he said to no one as he wiped a thin film of grease from his mouth. He leaned back in his seat, wrinkling his nose at the smell of his own stale sweat. He hadn't washed since he first arrived on the Coraygar.

  An alarm from the ship's long-range scanner sounded. It was probably nothing, but travelling at such high speeds meant there was no room for complacency, no room for error. The console told him there were ten ships in close formation set on a collision course with the Segrado. He tapped quickly on his console and frowned as no information could be accessed.

  Ajay was familiar with such systems — the Segrado was undetectable to most routine scans, many Purdah vessels offered fake, corrupt or blank identifying metadata to other ships.

  He took a series of images of the approaching craft and waited several seconds for their signal to return. Examining the images, he recognised them as basic United Solar cutters, but there was something different about them. He zoomed the image in to the underside of a single ship and noted the addition of a cannon.

  Ajay scraped his hair back and considered the image carefully, trying to work out why they would be heading towards his ship. Then it dawned on him — they weren't heading for him, they were heading for the Coraygar.

  He gasped and reached for his communicator. “Coraygar. Coraygar. Code one. Code one.”

  He waited, but heard only faint static.

  “Coraygar. Coraygar. This is the Segrado. Azra, please.”

  He held his breath as he waited for a response.

  “What the fuck do you—.”

  “Listen, United Solar ships are heading straight for you. This is not a joke. Move the Coraygar now. They have weapons. This is a code one — do you understand?” Ajay panted as he waited for a response. His heartbeat thundered in his ears as he tugged nervously on his ponytail.

  “Is this some kind—,” Azra's voice crackled.

  “No joke. This is deadly fucking serious. Move the ship. I'll turn around and get back as quickly as this thing will allow.”

  Ajay found the short delay between communications agonising. “Hurry.”

  “Code one. Copy.”

  Ajay sunk into his seat.

  Ajay vomited again. He'd never pushed his ship to such levels of acceleration. Although the Segrado protected its pilot from gravity and radiation, the dizzying visuals on its console gave him a severe migraine.

  He lifted his head from the disposal shoot. Groaning, he reached for the communicator.

  “Coraygar. Coraygar. This is the Segrado. Do you copy?” he slurred.

  He listened to the static as a loud pulse raced through his head. Tapping into his console he made fresh scans of the region, but they detected no ships.

  “Coraygar? This is the Segrado. Are you okay?”

  “Ajay?”

  He sat up and smiled — Azra's voice was unmistakable, beautiful. “What happened?” He waited.

  “Nothing. The ships weren't after us. They're approaching Titan Orbiter.”

  Ajay frowned. “The orbiter? Why?”

  “We've no idea.”

  Ajay brushed his matted hair back as his brow glistened with a cold sweat. “What would United Solar want with Titan?”

  “We would have been spotted, though,” Azra said. “If you hadn't warned us, I mean.”

  “I'm just glad you got away.” A sudden rumble tugged in Ajay's stomach. He turned and vomited into his waste chute.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I'll be fine, just a bit of travel sickness,” he said breathing heavily, wiping a string of bile from his chin.

  “Come back aboard — I'm forwarding you our new location.”

  “What about Taslim?”

  “Taslim's fine. He doesn't think you did anything untoward. I trust him, and I want to trust you. You really helped us out there. You could have carried on and left us, but you didn't — that means a lot to all of us.”

  “Thanks,” he mumbled. “What else was I going to do?”

  The Coraygar, in region of Saturn

  Ajay sat up in an unfamiliar bed and rubbed his aching head, vision blurred, eyes throbbing. The room around him shimmered in clinical whites and blues. An idling medical drone stood at the end of his bed, mantis-like with tubes and crab-like pincers.

  “You're awake. How are you feeling?”

  Confused, Ajay knitted his brow. “Azra?”

  “You've been asleep for a few days. You were pretty sick when you came on board,” she said, passing him a drink in a glass tumbler.

  He took a sip, grimacing at the harsh metallic taste. “What's this?” he gasped

  “It will clear your head. We're going to need as many clean heads as we can get.”

  He coughed, gripping the side of his bunk. It was all he could do not to vomit.

  “Eat this.”

  Ajay took a roll of bread, biting into it without hesitation. “Thanks,” he said between mouthfuls. Swallowing the end of the roll, he felt clarity return to his thoughts. “What's happened on the orbiter?”

  “It's weird,” Azra said. “We intercepted a bit of an odd signal from them just before you warned us of the Union ships. It wasn't your normal message — not encryption, no codes — it said the workers had taken over, the higher-ups were dead. It was a call for help.”

  “I suppose that explains the ships.”

  “But it doesn't. They were already well on their way when you contacted us.”

  Ajay tightened his jaw as he felt a sharp pain in his head. “Then it doesn't seem like they're linked.”

  “It doesn't.” Azra sighed.

  “So, what?”

  Azra shrugged. “We're still trying to work out what to make of it.”

  He nodded, then stopped. He reached up to his head and frowned.

  “Try to take it easy. You'll be fine once the meds take effect.”

  “Where's Taslim?”

  “He's fine,” she said, sitting down at the end of the bunk, pulling the blanket tight around Ajay's feet as it stretched taut against her weight.

  “I know, but I want to speak to him.”

  “We know you didn't do anything wrong, Ajay. He told us you did everything he would have expected.”

  Ajay held his head. “But I did. I acted like a complete dick — I was jealous of you two...” His voice trailed off.

  Azra regarded him coldly. “What are you saying, Ajay?”

  “I'm saying I'm sorry,” he said. “I shouldn't have been such a prick about you being with Taslim, and I shouldn't have been trying to find dirt on him.”

  “You shouldn't have done that, and you're wrong to think I've ever been with Taslim.”

  Ajay brushed his hair back to find it loose and knotted. “But, you said—.”

  “I said who I fuck is not your concern — there's a big difference.”

  “I want it to be, though,” Ajay said, looking into Azra's eyes. “We could be together.”

  Azra placed her hands in her lap and dropped her gaze. “That'll be the drugs starting to take effect.”

  “It's not. I had a lot of time to think over the past—.”

  “I'll fetch Taslim now,” Azra said, cutting Ajay short. “I think you owe him an explanation.”

  Ajay's mouth was half-open as Azra got up and left the medical room. He looked around at the monitors and tubes strewn on sideboards, spotting his leather hair tie resting on top of a scanner.

  Brushing his hair back, he reached over to the thong then yanked his hair into a ponytail. The slight tug of his hairline against his forehead made him feel somehow normal. He sighed and took another sip of the foul tasting drink.

  Looking up, he gave a nervous smile as Taslim entering the room. “Ajay,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

  “Not bad. My head is a bit—.” Ajay shrugged. “Look, I just wanted to thank you for telling everyone it was an accident.”

  “Was it an accident?” Taslim asked inclining his head and fixing Ajay's gaze.

&
nbsp; Ajay furrowed his brow. “I thought you told Azra that I did what you expected.”

  Taslim nodded then pulled up a chair next to the bed. “You did, but I don't know about hardware. You could have been doing anything.”

  “Then why did you say—.”

  “I wanted to hear it from you,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “I knew you were asking around about me, but I think you'll agree that it's a big leap to go from asking a few questions to sabotaging a piece of equipment to try to get me killed.”

  Ajay smiled. “I thought you were fucking Azra — that's why I was asking about you, but I tried to repair the terminal, honestly. I swear—.”

  Taslim's incredulous laugh caught Ajay off-guard. “You thought I was fucking Azra?”

  Shuffling, Ajay nodded. “I thought—.”

  “Do you know the only person I'd want to fuck on this ship?” Taslim asked.

  Ajay shook his head. “Who?”

  “You.”

  “Me?” Ajay grinned. “You're not into Azra then?”

  “I like men, Ajay,” Taslim said flatly.

  “That's great news.” Ajay smiled broadly as he clapped his hands. He looked at Taslim's face then paused. “I'm really sorry, Taslim. Even if you were with Azra, I shouldn't have tried to dig dirt on you.”

  “Apology accepted. But if you try to blow me up again...” Taslim gave a sardonic grin.

  An awkward smile passed over Ajay's face.

  Episode 6: Riko

  Kurowsawa household, Insularum 3, Lunar

  Natsuki Kurosawa dabbed her eyes in front of the mirror. She adjusted her loose white mourning gown, breathing deeply as she exited her bathroom.

  She hated the pitying looks and well-meaning words she'd heard since Hayao's death. Walking into her reception room, she scanned the understated richness of the room with its hand-crafted furnishings and ambient lighting - for what? Dust? A memory? Natsuki wasn't sure.

  Forcing a smile, she welcomed the friends and colleagues who had come to pay tribute to her husband. The memorial was a drab affair, she knew, but it was tradition, and tradition was important.

  She walked with soft steps to the image of her and Hayao taken during their honeymoon on V5. He was young and wearing a brightly coloured suit - they were both so happy then. Natsuki bit her lip and gripped her hands together, stopping herself from shedding yet another tear.

  “Friends,” she said, lifting her eyes. “I wish we could be together under happier circumstances, but it seems fate has not been kind to our family.

  “Hayao was my husband. I loved him dearly, but he was also a father to a beautiful girl—” she gulped and breathed out as her lip quivered and chest tightened. “He was a son and a friend. He was a good friend to many people—” Natsuki began to sob. Her father, put an arm around her. His warmth gave her comfort.

  “I'm sorry,” Natsuki managed.

  “Hayao was a good man,” said Wynn. “I think we can all agree on that.”

  The attendees nodded and mumbled in agreement as Natsuki turned and smiled. “Thank you, Wynn,” she said. “Hayao always spoke highly of you. He always said you were one of the few people on the Assembly he could trust.” She reached out and squeezed his hand.

  “Thank you,” whispered Wynn. “Genuinely. that means a lot. Honestly, if you ever need anything - anything - please—”

  There a knock at the door. Natsuki dropped her hand.

  “I'll see who it is,” said Wynn. He walked over to the outer door then opened it. Before him, holding a small gift under his arm was Lunar Secretary Takeshi Ozu.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” snarled Wynn. “Do you have no shame?”

  Takeshi smiled. “I have come to let Madam Kurosawa know that there are no ill feelings between us.”

  Wynn shook his head. “You are joking, right? This has to be a joke. It's sick - you're sick.”

  “You should watch your tongue Representative Efans. Treason can be defined in many ways.” Takeshi shoved past Wynn and entered the reception room. Wide-eyed, Natsuki felt a chill travel down her spine. Takeshi reached out to touch her hand.

  “Madam Kurosawa. Natsuki,” Takeshi bowed his head. “I have come to pay my respects to Hayao and assure you that there are no ill feelings between us.”

  A prickling wave of anger spread across Natsuki's flesh. “No ill feelings? No ill feelings? You've got a nerve. You have Hayao's blood still fresh on your hands and you tell me there are no ill feelings?” Her face curled as she lunged towards Takeshi, fists flailing.

  Wynn darted between them and grabbed Natsuki as she beat into his chest.

  “Don't,” Wynn snapped. “This is exactly what he wants.” He turned to Takeshi. “You've done enough damage to this family. In fact, you've done more than enough damage to all us. If you have any respect left for yourself, for Hayao's memory, or for his mourning family, leave now.”

  Takeshi placed an image of himself and Hayao on the memorial shrine. It was taken on the day Hayao and Takeshi were sworn into office, wearing broad smiles and crisp suits on the steps of the Secretarial Palace.

  “Natsuki,” Takeshi said. “I wanted you to know that it was my honour to perform the cleansing ritual on Hayao before he left us.”

  Natsuki stared through Takeshi and pointed to the door. “Get out.”

  After a long silence, Takeshi bowed his head and turned to the door. “I really am very sorry for your loss,” he said as he left. Natsuki slammed the door behind him.

  “What the hell was that?” asked Wynn. “Are you okay?” Natsuki picked up Takeshi's gift then stepped through to her kitchen and pushed it into the waste disposal. It reduced to a formless grey mush before washing away.

  “Takeshi shouldn't have brought that image,” said Wynn from the doorway behind Natsuki.

  “I should have cleansed Hayao,” she said. “That's my right as a wife and Takeshi took that away. He's taken everything from me. Everything,” she sobbed.

  Shopping District, V5 Orbiter, Venus

  “I hate to prattle on dear, but this whole mess is so utterly ghastly,” said Meer Vin Ranghi as she preened herself before a leather goods shop window. Her blue hair was piled high on her head, woven through with threads of gold and strips of coloured leather.

  “I wouldn't say Yao Huizhong was a particularly dear friend, but I knew her well enough,” she said. “And that whole business with the Boeki is just awful. Imagine being found in a cargo dock of all places - and by one of those disgusting traders - it's completely abhorrent.”

  Meer was slim, tall and wore an elaborately tailored dress layered with colourful silks, twists of rare metals and intricate embroidery that sparkled and shimmered beneath V5's ceaseless blue skies projected above.

  “My goodness,” said Maggerty Tsuum. “Have you seen the prices of some of these bags?”

  Meer snorted. “Well, you know what they say about having to ask about the prices—” Meer looked down at a label. “Oh my, that does seem a little pricey.”

  “A little? That's a huge mark-up since last week.” Maggerty was a stout woman with dyed grey hair and penetrating eyes. She wore a bright green and orange dress stitched with brown leather and fine copper strips.

  Meer took Maggerty by the arm and strolled past the line of shops and cafes. “I do worry Maggerty,” she said. “It's all so very sad. Did you see the Secretary's speech? It's so very sad.”

  “So sad,” agreed Maggerty. “So incredibly sad.”

  “It wasn't just Yao Huizhong the Boeki did this to. Or was it the Purdah?” Meer shook her head and shrugged, her delicately curated mass of hair remaining impeccable. “We should probably buy some tea. Would you care to join me for some tea?”

  “That sounds wonderful.”

  “Can you imagine your entire family being killed? It's completely unthinkable.”

  “I wonder what will happen with the Yao's interests,” Maggerty mused. “Who's going to oversee the operations without Yao Huizhong - without an
y Yao?”

  “I'm sure it's all in hand. Shall we?” Meer gestured to the door of their regular tea shop, with its window display of miniature teapots and intricately decorated cups arranged along the bottom of its window.

  “Ladies, ladies,” the tea shop owner Dilly La'la said, his arms wide and smile welcoming. “Oh, you are looking as radiant as ever Madam Ranghi. Won't you look at that dress: you are a delight to behold,” he said, gesturing. “I'll take you to your usual seats.”

  Meer stood behind a white plush chair looking out onto the boulevard. Hints of cinnamon, lemon and peppermint drifted from the selection of tea leaves on display to the rear of the shop. The familiar background noise of low conversations and clinking teacups was absent. Her and Maggerty were the only patrons.

  Dilly pulled a chair out for Meer while Maggerty perused the menu.

  “Oh my,” Maggerty said with a hushed voice. “Are these prices correct?”

  “Oh Maggerty, dear, please.” Meer huffed, throwing a hand to her forehead with a dramatic gesture. “Mister La'la, I am so sorry about my friend. I don't know where her manners are today.”

  Dilly bowed his head. “The Madam is all too perceptive, I'm afraid,” he said, wringing his wrists.

  “But it is so uncouth to talk about—” Meer stopped as Maggerty pushed the menu beneath her nose, pointing out their usual blend. “Oh my goodness,” she gasped. “This is, this is, extortionate.”

  “My dear, my dear,” Dilly pleaded. “As soon as the news came out about the Yao, the prices for everything shot up. Fuel shortages affect everything. It is out of all of our hands, and it will only get worse.”

  “We'll just see about that,” scoffed Meer.

  Kurowsawa household, Insularum 3, Lunar

  Sitting straight-backed on a wooden chair, Natsuki stared ahead. She picked at her thumbs with the nails of her index fingers, pulling them along her flesh to feel something else, some other type of pain.

  Riko crawled along the floor as she pushed along her toy surgery drone. “Beep, beep, beep. You will be better now,” she said, prodding her mother with the toy.