New Canaan: A Military Science Fiction Space Opera Epic: Aeon 14 (The Orion War Book 2)
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It also meant that she was probably the last of her family line alive.
“Jessica? You there?” Cheeky asked, waving a hand in the air.
“Yeah, sorry, was just thinking about home.”
“Oh, sorry,” Cheeky replied meekly. “For me, it’s cool that you’re from Earth, but knowing what happened…I guess it can’t be easy.”
“It’s OK,” Jessica said, shaking her dark feelings away. “I came to grips with never seeing home again a long time ago. Yet, now…now I could see it again, it would only take a few months to get there. But it won’t be home—my home is gone, blown clear off the face of the planet by the Jovians. Just a crater lake where northern Canada used to be….”
No one spoke after that.
The silence was eventually broken by a message from the system traffic control NSAI informing them of required alterations to their inbound flight path.
“Why are they sending us around like this?” Cheeky asked. “We have a clear route to Chittering Hawk.”
“I think I know why,” Jessica replied. “There’s more than a token AST presence here.”
She pushed an updated view of the system onto the main holo, which showed no fewer than forty-seven AST ships. Only two were of the same dreadnaught class that had been present in the Bollam’s World System, the rest were cruisers and destroyers, which still outmatched Sabrina—or would have, if Sabrina hadn’t possessed stasis shields.
“Good thing the Intrepid’s engineers changed our profile,” Cargo muttered. “You can bet that every one of those AST buggers has us at the top of their ‘watch for these guys’ list.”
“Then why are they diverting us past that AST cruiser over there,” Cheeky asked. “That’s not the sort of thing you do to your friends.”
“Friends don’t let friends go to the Hegemony,” Cargo chuckled. “They’re obviously just checking everyone over. You can see all those other freighters doing close fly-bys of AST ships, as well.”
“Nice and close to their beams,” Jessica muttered.
“All the better to shoot you with,” Cargo grinned.
“Cargo,” Cheeky said with a scowl. “Can you be serious here?”
“Look,” Cargo replied. “We’re gonna get scanned eventually. Wouldn’t you like to know right off whether or not we can slip past the AST? If we can fake out one of their ships at point-blank range, we can slip under the radar anywhere.”
“And if we can’t slip under the radar?” Jessica asked.
“That’s what we have stasis shields for. We turn ’em on and jet on outta here. We can still head to Aldebaran. Stopping here is just a convenience.”
Jessica ran a hand through her long hair and her fingers met a few strands that felt different. She pulled her purple locks in front of her face and saw several grey hairs in the mix.
“Look!” she pointed at the offending hairs. “You’re making me grey, Cargo.”
Iris spoke on the bridge net.
“You couldn’t have told me that before we left?” Jessica asked.
“I guess I was,” Jessica replied. She looked up to see Cargo and Cheeky peering at her with curious looks.
“Hey! It’s not like I’m going to keel over tomorrow. I could make it another hundred years without going in for Rejuv, I’ll just…you know…age.”
Iris offered.
Jessica pulled at the greys she had spotted and they slid free from the mass of her hair.
“Iris! How many did you do this to?”
Jessica sighed. “Yeah, OK. Just let me know before you make changes to my body next time. I don’t want to be bald when we get back to the Intrepid.”
Her statement caused Cargo and Cheeky to explode with laughter, and she almost told them to stuff it, before she realized how funny the exchange was. A minute later, Nance stepped into the room to see the ship slowly approaching an AST cruiser while the bridge crew laughed so hard tears were running down their faces.
“So…we’re all gonna die?” she asked.
CHITTERING HAWK
STELLAR DATE: 06.12.8928 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Sabrina, Chittering Hawk Station
REGION: Virginis System
Though the close fly-by of the AST cruiser was disconcerting, nothing came of it. The ship scanned Sabrina with active sensors, but it didn’t make an attempt at communication.
The Chittering Hawk traffic control tower took only a fraction more interest in them. Once Cargo showed proof of their ability to pay docking fees and declared the amount of fuel and antimatter the ship was carrying, the coordinates for a berth came over the comms a minute later.
“They’re going to send an antimatter inspection team in,” Jessica reported, they’ll meet us when we dock.
“Thank the stars,” Cheeky muttered.
“Really?” Jessica asked. “I wouldn’t have thought you would want an inspection team on the ship.”
“Oh, I don’t,” Cheeky replied. “But it means all those other dumbass captains have teams checking their ships over, too—and that makes me feel a lot safer.”
“Good point,” Jessica agreed.
Jessica knew that on any ship with antimatter, the containment vessel was the one system that was maintained in perfect condition. Not that ‘the bottle’ as Nance called it needed much in the way of upkeep. It was a closed system, which either worked or didn’t.
Given that a ship’s bottle had more fail-safes than an entire planetary ring, terrorists using ships as bombs were far more likely than an actual malfunction.
“How investigatory are they likely to get?” Jessica asked.
“They won’t poke around much,” Cargo replied. “The magnetic fields that hold antimatter are pretty easy to examine, so they know whether or not we’ve declared the volume we’re carrying. Then they’ll slap a lock on our unit that will sound alarms to high heaven if we so much as touch it.”
“Do all stations do that?” Jessica asked. “It must be a pain for them to constantly monitor it all.”
“If you’re a frequent flyer and have a good rating, they’re less likely to drop a lock on you, but they still do from time to time, just to keep everyone honest.”
“Three hours ‘til we’re at our berth,” Cheeky announced. “We don’t have to deal with a tug, though. That’s a small mercy.”
“Fuck, there’re four AST ships docked at Chittering Hawk,” Jessica muttered as a station data-burst came in. “Probably a few thousand of those bastards wandering around on shore leave.”
“We’re unlikely to frequent the same sorts of places,” Cargo replied with a shrug. “It should be fine.”
Jessica didn’t like Cargo’s nonchalance, but he did have the right attitude. They were just a trader doing business. So long as they acted the part—which was easy for the crew—everything should be fine.
Jessica chuckled under her breath. She knew exactly what she’d have done, and more than once.
Jessica’s temper flared in response to Iris’s comment.
teeth. A rational part of herself knew that Iris was right, but she’d be damned if she was going to take bereavement advice from a three-year-old AI.
Jessica sighed, disappointed in herself for treating Iris like an inferior being. The AI was young, but she was still a person, and they were going to be sharing the same head for some time.
Iris didn’t respond, and Jessica hoped that she hadn’t been too harsh. Given that her AI had spent at least some of her tutelage with Angela, she would have expected her to be able to handle a strong response.
She pushed it from her mind and refocused on the present. “Want me to meet the team at the dock?” Jessica asked Cargo.
“No,” Cargo shook his head. “Thompson will take care of that.”
“Any duties for me at all, once we’re docked?” Jessica asked.
Cargo paused, appearing to consider his options. “I’ve assigned you the first watch shift, but after that, you can do whatever strikes your fancy.”
Jessica nodded and leaned back in her chair, keeping an eye on scan and comm while flipping through the station’s amenities. A few entertaining options caught her attention and she smiled; she could relax, for a shift or two, at least.
TRADING IN DANGER
STELLAR DATE: 06.12.8928 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Sabrina, Chittering Hawk Station
REGION: Virginis System
It was the end of her shift, and Jessica waited for Cargo at the ship’s main hatch. He was already five minutes late, which, from what she knew of him, was highly unusual.
In front of her, the station’s public dock hummed with activity. This section of dock berthed over a hundred ships. Most were small, independent freighters like Sabrina, but a few larger ones were present, too—probably for station mass balancing.
The AI had resumed talking to her not long after their small tiff, behaving as though nothing had happened. Now they were back to being best of friends—or so Jessica hoped. In her experience, AI didn’t hold grudges, but she had never had one in her head before either—if they didn’t get along, she would be in for an unpleasant few years.
Jessica had to remind herself that there was nothing creepy about the AI piggybacking off her senses. Iris had no body or physical receptors. Everything she knew about the world around her came from Jessica.
Iris signaled affirmation.
As Cargo approached, Jessica examined his companions. One of the women was walking beside him speaking casually as they wove amongst the crowds and haulers on the dock. The other woman and the man were trailing behind a few paces, eyes wary, darting to any sharp movements, and lingering on any suspicious individuals.
The woman was of normal build, though Jessica imagined that she would have some augmentation to fill the role of muscle. The man, on the other hand, was quite literally muscle incarnate. He would have dwarfed even the burliest Marine back on the Intrepid, but he still moved with a lithe grace as he moved down the dock.
A trio of AST naval officers walked past, and Jessica could see the female guard’s lip turn down in a sneer. She cast a look at the man, who shook his head in warning.
Jessica smiled in response. The Hegemony’s military uniforms were a bit on the obnoxious side. At first glance, they were simple: white, with gold, blue, and yellow stripes running down the sleeves and sides of the pants. It was the logo that likely upset those around them.
Emblazoned on the right chest of the uniform were the three stars that made up the acronym AST: Alpha Centuari, Sol, and Tau Ceti. Beneath those three stars was a stylized representation of the Milky Way Galaxy, and a slogan in some ancient language that Jessica had learned meant, ‘The Hegemony Over All’.
There was also a larger version on their backs.
Jessica said to Iris,
Iris laughed.
Cargo drew nearer and caught Jessica’s eye.
Jessica glanced at the thugs and saw that they were carrying at least one unconcealed weapon each. She nodded slowly and reached an arm back inside the ship. A pulse rifle rested against the wall, and she slid her hand down the stock.
Cargo chuckled over the Link.
Cargo approached the ship and walked up the ramp, nodding to Jessica as he continued to discuss local politics with the woman at his side. The two thugs followed them in, both giving Jessica long looks, eyeing the pulse rifle she held.
“Careful with that,” the man grunted. “The safety’s off—I wouldn’t want you to shoot yourself in the foot.”
The woman chuckled in response, and Jessica just tapped her finger on the guard, eyes never leaving theirs as she fell in behind them.
The man shrugged and turned his attention back to Cargo and his boss, but the woman slowed to walk beside Jessica.
“So, what are you, honey, the ship’s whore?”
Jessica’s earlier guess about the woman’s augmentations was confirmed as she saw that her arms were not organic—though they appeared to be at first glance. The way the muscles moved in her biceps gave it away. She could probably pack one hell of a punch.
“Well, what is it? Whore or jester?” the woman asked.
Jessica wondered if it was her hair or her lavender skin that caused the woman to think that she was either of those things. Given that the woman’s own hair was a light blue that gleamed against her nearly pitch-black skin—an obvious mod since her build belied a spacer heritage, and dark skin was a rarity amongst spacers—Jessica figured she was just insecure and looking to pick a fight with someone who wouldn’t fight bac
k.
“A little of both,” Jessica replied. “If you can make them laugh and scream at the same time, you know you’ve found your calling.”
The man snorted back a laugh and glanced back at the woman.
“Leave her be, Camilla, you fuck up enough deals trying to get a rise out of people. Let it go this once.”
Camilla gave a loud huff but caught back up to her male counterpart without a parting rejoinder.
Ahead, Cargo turned into one of the holds and she followed the guards to the entrance. Camilla entered, while the man stayed at the door.
“Jessica,” she said, offering her hand.
He took it, his massive paw enveloping her hand, wrist, and a part of her forearm. “Trevor,” he replied. “Don’t mind Camilla, she just likes to get a rise out of folks. Not a lot goes on here on Chittering Hawk. Well, I mean, a lot does, just not the sort of action she wants. It makes her jittery.”
“Oh?” Jessica asked. “What kind of action is that?”
“Combat,” Trevor replied simply. “She didn’t get into the military, so she took the private security route. The Hawk’s got a seedy rep, but, to be honest, aside from the odd bar fight, the worst thing on this station are those AST goons.”
“I guess they cut into business a bit,” Jessica said.
“Not so much as you’d think,” Trevor replied as they watched Cargo unseal a crate and display its contents. “They don’t care too much about what wares go in and out, and their presence means that Jeannie there,” he gestured at his boss who was now haggling with Cargo, “gets to charge premium rates for her work. Gotta look for the opportunity in things like this, you know?”
Jessica laughed. “I know about finding opportunity in unexpected places, trust me.”
Trevor looked at her, his eyes raking up and down her exaggerated figure. “I’ll bet you have.”
She didn’t begrudge him the look. Hers was a body tailor-made for ogling. She should know—she made it that way. Just so long as all he did was look. There was one thing she had learned about this future in which the Intrepid had landed: as much as everything had changed, nothing had really changed.