Ad Astra

by Jack Campbell

  “Thank you, First Officer Kilcannon.”

  I saluted again and left, making sure her hatch was set to notify me if Captain Weskind left her cabin. It didn’t happen much nowadays, but I needed to be there if she needed me.

  Leaving port was the usual mix of tension and boredom. Tension because things could go wrong. A blown directional vector or an aging control system sending the wrong commands could result in a painful meeting of ship and some other object. Lady wasn’t the smallest freighter running between stars, but she wasn’t all that big, either. Odds were if we hit anything Lady would be the loser.

  But it was boring, too, because the procedures were ones we’d run through a hundred times and they didn’t change all that much from port to port. Same old drill, often in different places, but always the same old drill.

  Then we were out of the confines of the port and running free down the outbound shipping lanes, heading outward past planets and rocks and comets, aiming to get far enough from the gravity well of Mandalay’s sun Ganesha to start our jump. Systems, especially inner systems, always felt cramped and crowded when you were used to the wide open freedom of the big dark. Nearly a hundred suns held human colonies now, and even after so many years of sailing between them I still felt a moment of wonder at the thought that the Lady could carry me to any sun and planet I chose. In theory. In practice, we could only go where the paying cargo runs took us. The roads between the stars aren’t free, no matter what the poets dream far away on Mother Sol.

  Here, close to port, the inbound lanes passed near the outbound. I watched the big ships coming in. Sol Transport, Vestral Shipping, Combined Systems, Great Spinward. The ships belonging to the giant companies seemed to glow on our screens, all their systems registering in top shape on our read-outs. I fought down a wave of envious anger. With a fraction of what the big companies spent to keep those ships of theirs shiny I could get Lady back in shape. But it wouldn’t happen. Lady was beneath their attention. The ports Lady called at were often beneath their attention. The cargo Lady carried usually wasn’t worth it for the big carriers. So I watched the big ships pass and wished for more of their leavings.

  Maybe some of them were watching old, small, battered Lady heading out. If they were watching, I could too easily imagine what they were thinking. I wished the wrath of the saints on smug company spacers and went to let Dingo out of his quarters.

  #

  I double-checked the jump solution while Dingo glared at me. The lump visible on his forehead hadn’t aided his forgiving me for tricking him last night. But he’d done his job right. A short run to Wayfare, then a middling run to a nowhere star named Carnavon that didn’t see much traffic and wouldn’t have any local authorities asking awkward questions, and finally a long run into Fagin. The circuitous route should bring us into Fagin along routes a fair ways from the usual inbound and outbound channels for that system. “Looks good.”

  “As if I didn’t know this job better’n you, Kilcannon!”

  “Dingo, somebody has to double-check things like this. You know that, too.”

  “Oh, I know lots, Kilcannon. Did you tell them new ones yet where we’re goin’?”

  “No.” Jungo, nearby, looked over with ill-conceal alarm.

  Dingo grinned nastily. “Where d’they think we’re goin’?”

  I didn’t answer, so Dingo looked at Jungo, who swallowed nervously. “Polder,” he half-whispered.

  “Polder! Hah! Try Fagin, lad.”

  “Fagin?” Jungo paled. “But…the war.”

  “Yeah! Civil war! Brother against brother! The best kind. And the best rates for those willing to try to run cargo in through the privateers roamin’ the spaceways.”

  The crew would’ve heard sooner or later, but I still wasn’t happy having it spilled now, days before we’d get far enough out-system to enter jump to Wayfare. “Shut up.”

  Dingo just grinned at me. “’Shut up,’ is it? And what’ll you do if I don’t, Kilcannon? Shanghai me on a voyage to a war zone in an old tub that should’ve seen the wrecker’s yard a handful of years ago?”

  Jungo was shaking his head. “I signed on for Polder.” His voice wavered. “My contract says Polder.”

  I shook my own head. “Your contract contains a necessity clause which allows the ship to change destinations if required. You ought to be grateful for that. We won’t meet any arrest warrants on any of our crew that’ve been forwarded to Polder. Right?”

  Dingo laughed again, Jungo looked stricken and relieved at the same time, and I ignored both of them.

  #

  So many ships. I keyed the transmitter again. “Wayfare System Control, this is Lady Be Good still awaiting authorization to clear system.”

  I sat back to wait. Spacer Siri was at the auxiliary control panel on the bridge, shivering constantly, her eyes going into and out of focus. Withdrawal from star dust wasn’t pleasant to watch, but watching was all anyone on the Lady could do. It’d either kill her or leave her clear. So far, Siri had been able to follow orders when I snapped them at her.

  A babble of messages from other ships to Wayfare System Control and each other flowed in after I stopped transmitting. The authorities at Wayfare were obviously overwhelmed again. Why one of the most often used relay stars couldn’t upgrade its system control was beyond me.

  Lady was skating along the fringes of Wayfare, just heading for the jump point to Carnavon. A slightly unusual route, but I knew from experience that Wayfare System Control would be too busy to worry about what one little freighter was up to.

  And I was right. “Lady Be Good, authorization granted to clear Wayfare.” I punched in the jump commands, secure in the knowledge nobody was paying attention to Lady.

  Nearby, Spacer Siri shivered. I dug a packet out of one of my pockets and tossed it to her. “These’ll help.” She caught the packet automatically and stared at it. “Somebody I knew beat star dust. They said that stuff helped a lot.”

  Siri nodded, tearing open the packet with trembling hands. I went back to studying my control panel. Somewhere aft, one of the engines groaned into momentary instability that made my stomach flutter. A moment later, Chief Engineer Vox called the bridge. “Bad.”

  “Can you hold it together?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How long?”

  “Depends.”

  “Give me as much warning as you can.”

  “Just did.”

  #

  Carnavon was small and dim. For a star, that is. No other ship beacons flared on our scans. Quiet and isolated, just the place for a small ship looking to avoid awkward questions.

  To get the right arrival angle on Fagin we’d have to fall through the Carnavon system and climb out the other side, a time-consuming pain in the neck under any circumstances.

  “Hey, Kilcannon.”

  “What, Dingo?”

  “On the bridge, sweetheart.”

  I made my way up there, wondering what Dingo could have to talk about that needed me on the bridge in person. Most of the possibilities weren’t very good. But Dingo didn’t seem worried as he pointed at scan. “What d’ya think that is, Kilcannon?”

  I peered at it, checked readings, then thought about it. “What do you think it is?”

  “I asked first.” Dingo smiled with derision. “Don’t know, d’ya? How long ya been a sailor, Kilcannon?”

  “Long enough.” I frowned at the scan. “It looks like a dead ship.”

  “Not bad! It’s a ship, alright.” Dingo’s smile vanished. “She ain’t dead. Not yet.” He tapped a blunt nail on some of the readouts. “It’s real faint, but there’s still a heat source active in there, and leaking atmosphere.”

  “Saints. Are you saying there’s someone still alive on that thing?”

  “Could be.”

  A wreck would’ve been interesting as a possible source of parts, though probably not interesting enough to warrant a diversion from our course. Wrecks tended to be stripped before we ever saw the
m. But if some of the crew had holed up in the interior… “There’s no distress beacon.”

  “Nah. Which tells you and me how that wreck got in trouble, right?” I immediately checked scan again, but Dingo was already grinning at me. “I checked. As good as I could with this tub’s instruments. There ain’t no other ships burning engines in this system right now. Either the pirates or privateers are sitting quiet in ambush, or they’ve left.”

  I scowled at the display. “Getting to that wreck will take us way off our track.”

  “Yeah.”

  “If somebody was waiting to ambush any rescuers, they’d have left the distress beacon working to lure people in, wouldn’t they?”

  “Yeah.”

  “But anybody still onboard it is most likely already dead.”

  “Yeah.”

  “But if anyone finds out we disregarded a ship in distress they’ll take the Lady and our licenses.”

  “Yeah. But if any survivors die they won’t be telling on us, will they?”

  “Damn you, Dingo. Get us over to that thing.” I turned away. “I’ll brief the Captain.”

  “Yeah. You do that.”

  #

  It was a big one. Once Lady got close enough we could read the registry. Canopus Rising, one of the Vestral Company’s ships. But she wasn’t bright and pretty anymore. Somebody had kicked Canopus Rising in the butt and kept kicking.

  “Engines slagged,” Chief Engineer Vox grunted, pointing to the image. Somebody had hit that part of the Canopus with heavy artillery while the engines were running, adding the suddenly unleashed power of the ship’s own engines to the destruction the weapon wrought.

  I exhaled as a slim hope vanished. “What’re the chances any parts in those engineering areas are salvageable?”

  “Zilch.”

  I brought us as close as I could. We were still picking up faint leakage of heat and gases, so whatever survival space the crew must have rigged up still existed. Whether there was anyone left alive in it was another matter. “Dingo, take the lifeboat over. Take three sailors along to help.”

  “You’re not going yourself?”

  I gave Dingo a level stare. “I have to stay with the ship. And keep the Captain informed.”

  “Ah, yes, so you do. Can you walk with me to the lifeboat?” I went along, knowing Dingo wanted to say something where we couldn’t be overheard. “Kilcannon, there’s a chance they’re still alive, and if they’re still alive, there’s a chance they’re in bad shape, and if they’re in bad shape then there ain’t much you or I can do for them.”

  I pretended to study the read-outs on the lifeboat access. “And?”

  “Do we haul ‘em here and wake ‘em up enough to know they’re hurting so they can die?”

  I took a deep breath, thinking. “Yes.”

  Dingo shrugged. “You’re the boss.”

  “Dingo, it’s up to the saints whether or not they die. I won’t make that decision for them.”

  Another grin. “The saints don’t like to be crossed, do they? Ah, here’s my crew. Strap in.”

  I reported to Captain Weskind, then went back to the bridge and watched the lifeboat match velocity, roll and tumble to the wreck. Whatever his limitations as a man of culture, Dingo was a sailor’s sailor who knew how to drive even a lumbering lifeboat.

  I’d learned patience on many long watches between the stars, and I needed it now. I knew Dingo and his crew were working their way inside the wrecked ship, but Lady couldn’t afford fancy communications and tracking gear. All I could do was watch the lifeboat where it rested on the hull of the Canopus and wait.

  It took an hour. “Ahoy on the Lady, this is Third Officer Dingo.”

  “This is Kilcannon.”

  “We got ‘em. Six souls. They’re all walkin’.”

  Six sailors. Maybe Vestral would cough up a reward. “Anything we can use onboard?”

  “Nah. The bastards who done ‘er in stripped ‘er good. All we’re gettin’ out of this one is happy points with the saints.”

  “Most likely.” Perhaps ten more minutes passed, then the lifeboat detached from the wreck and made its slow way back.

  I was at the access when they arrived. Curiosity aside, protocol demanded it and I wasn’t going to let any company sailors say the Lady hadn’t done things right.

  Two officers, three able spacers, and one woman who wasn’t wearing a crew coverall. The senior officer extended his hand to me. “First Officer Chen. We’d about given up hope.”

  I shook his hand and smiled politely. “I’m glad we were able to help.” Behind Chen, the junior company spacers were gaping around in obvious dismay at the condition of the Lady. The other officer and the woman showed better manners.

  Chen gestured to his companion. “Third Officer Constantine.” Constantine nodded her head, giving me a grateful smile.

  Then Chen pointed to the woman who wasn’t dressed like crew, but before he could speak she came forward. “Halley Keracides. Thank you, Captain.”

  I shook my head. “I’m First Officer Kilcannon. Captain Weskind couldn’t be here. She sends her apologies. What happened to you all?”

  Chen grimaced. “When we came out of jump here in Carnavon there was a pirate right on top of us.” Dingo frowned in disbelief. I imagine I did, too. “I know the odds against that. But it turned out our Fourth Officer had sold our jump calculations. Perfect place to betray us, a system where the odds of anyone stumbling across the attack would be almost zero.”

  “I take it that’s why the Fourth Officer’s not with you.”

  Another grimace. “Him because he sold us out, and most of the others for ransom from Vestral. But the pirates didn’t have enough space for all of us, they said, so they left us six behind. Me and Constantine with the sailors because they said we had bad attitudes.”

  I imagined the Captain of the Canopus had displayed plenty of bad attitude as well, but they would’ve needed him or her for any ransom demand. I looked at Halley Keracides. Neither she nor her clothes bore signs of anything beyond a middle-class income. “I guess they didn’t think Vestral would cough up any money for you.”

  She gave me a flat look back. “Why would they?”

  Then again, maybe she’d had a bad attitude, too. I faced First Officer Chen. “Our crew’s not at full strength so we’ve got some spare accommodations. You can have our Second Officer’s quarters.”

  Chen nodded politely, keeping whatever thoughts he might have to himself about a ship that was sailing without a Second Officer onboard. “Thank you for the offer, but I feel Ms. Keracides should have those quarters.”

  It didn’t matter to me. “Fine. Dingo, show everyone to their quarters.”

  “I got a lifeboat to stow, darlin’.” I counted to five slowly, letting Dingo see how I felt. He shrugged. “Fine. I’ll do it later. Come on, you.”

  Chen must have talked to his sailors, because the next time I saw them they were pretending not to notice what bad shape the Lady was in. Chen offered on behalf of all the sailors to work for their room and board until I could drop them off in port, which offer I cheerfully accepted. I could use skilled sailors, especially ones I didn’t have to pay. “What about Ms. Keracides? What’s she do?”

  Chen dropped his eyes and shrugged. “She’s a manager of some sort, I understand.”

  “Then she doesn’t do much.”

  This time, Chen grinned. “Probably not. Uh, I don’t want to imply anything, but I do know something about engineering…”

  “Our system’s badly in need of overhaul. I know.”

  “I might be able to help. I asked your Chief Engineer about it, but she didn’t say anything.”

  “She usually doesn’t,” I advised Chen. “Just show up and do whatever you can.”

  I was on the bridge, picking at my lunch, when Halley Keracides came up. She peered around. It wasn’t the blank surface examination of someone out of their depth, though. She apparently knew something about ships. “Mind if I
sit down?” she asked.

  I indicated the observer’s chair. “Feel free.”

  She twisted the chair, giving me an arch look as it protested swiveling. “I wanted to thank you again. It was getting very bad in the survival compartment the crew had rigged up. I was getting ready to greet the saints.”

  I nodded. “You’re welcome.”

  “Where are we going?”

  I’d been waiting for that question, but I guess Chen had been hesitant to ask. I balanced truth and falsehood for a moment in my mind and decided the truth didn’t matter at this point. “Fagin.”

  “Fagin?” she questioned. Then she repeated it, her voice sharper. “Fagin?”

  “Yeah, Fagin.”

  “That’s a war zone.”

  “That’s why we’re getting paid well to run this cargo in.”

  She watched me for a moment. “Why are you going to Fagin through Carnavon?”

  So Ms. Keracides really did know something about ships. Or about the routes ships took between stars, anyway. “We needed a different approach path in-system.” I couldn’t tell how much she understood what that implied.

  Her eyes narrowed. “You’ll be out of normal transit lanes.”

  She understood a lot. “We want to avoid privateers. All three sides in the civil war have issued letters of marque.”

  “You’ll also be avoiding peacekeepers, won’t you?”

  She understood entirely too much. “It’s a calculated risk. Perhaps you’re unaware of the realities of operating for a ship like the Lady. We don’t have company contacts and company contracts. We get by on what the big companies don’t want to bother with. That means we end up taking chances.”

  “There’s nothing dishonorable about working a smaller ship,” she stated, answering the thing I hadn’t said.

  “No, Ms. Keracides, there isn’t. I’m sorry we’re taking you into Fagin. But once we drop off our cargo we’ll be able to get you to a peacekeeper station. Vestral ships help supply those, right? So you’ll be okay. It’d only take a few more weeks to pass through Carnavon, then a little while in jump.”

  “We appreciate the service, First Officer Kilcannon,” she stated dryly.