“Clocks coming into sync,” Agdta stated and began the countdown, “Decrease power in 3, 2, 1.”
“Powering down External Drive, now,” Kala said.
The Uno Shoda didn’t snap or jerk but the front view screen cleared of blue and far away stars appeared. We were far from the place where we’d begin our spread of arcs to make the turn. Far enough that I had a few hours before heading down to the bunker.
“So you think the Pirates key in on our Blue Ion flow to track us?” Xhosa asked.
“It’s the only way possible,” I answered, “The way I see it is they have to have a fix in order to converge on us. There’s too much space around the plot point for them to just sit and wait. They’ve got to use something to find us. Either an electronic signal from the ship which wouldn’t pass through our ion flow until we went Internal. But, that would be too late for them to reach us. It’s more likely, they’re using a far ranging scanner that detects the ions.”
“Coming in on Internal Drive renders us invisible to them,” Agdta said then added, “Hopefully we’ll be marking our arcs before they know where we are. So what will you be doing?”
“I’ll be in the gun turret,” I replied, “bored and enjoying the view. If I’m right.”
The Uno Shoda was on its third arc. As far as the gun targeting system, and Kala’s scanners were concerned, we were along in space. I was enjoying the far away stars and a few planets that were reflecting the weak light. We didn’t know if my plan was working or if there were no Pirates waiting for us. For the moment it didn’t matter, I was enjoying the view from the underside of the Clipper ship.
The transport began a fourth arc and my guns began to pivot in response to the targeting system. Kala was on it as well.
“Scanners show an incoming vessel,” Kala warned.
I eyed the yellow streak as it faded and the ship almost disappeared into the background of space. Thankfully, my guns were locked on and they tracked it as a Gun Boat raced to catch up with the turning Clipper ship.
“Hailing for an identity,” Kala stated. After a few moments, she announced, “No response. It’s not a Navy ship.”
The Gun Boat was tracking off our flank and closing fast. At a distance that was just in range for my guns, I laid a spread in its path. Sparks stitched a line along the side and the Gun Boat veered away.
Agdta announced the fifth arc and I relaxed a little. With the Pirate ship moving away, we had only to complete the sixth arc of the turn and we’d go External.
“A second vessel is in bound,” Kala announced and I began to rotate trying to get a lock on the new ship.
“I can’t find it,” I pleaded, “Give me some guidance, Kala.”
“It’s coming in from your blind spot,” She advised me.
My blind spot was the entire body of the Clipper ship. Unless the new ship circled us, I wouldn’t have a chance to fire on it.
“Prepare for target acquisition,” Captain Xhosa stated.
Prepare, I thought. I’ve been ready for any targets for over two hours. What did he think I was doing hanging from the underbelly of a massive Clipper ship? Just enjoying the view. And that’s when the view changed as the Clipper ship began to roll.
My guns locked onto a second vessel. It was a Patrol Boat. I ran the targeting off its line of flight a few clicks and depressed the trigger. The stream of rounds would have missed the Pirate ship if they hadn’t turned into them. I’d taken a risk the ship would try to dive below the body of the Clipper. The rounds anticipated this move and he flew right into the deadly field of fire.
“Sixth arc,” Agdta announced, “The Clocks are syncing, increase power.”
A blue wave of ions mushroomed from the nose of the Clipper ship. The mushroom cap collapsed and the edges began to crawl towards me and the belly gun. I rotated into the Clipper ship and breathed out. I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath while the ions formed.
“You know lad, sailing on this Clipper ship used to be boring,” Ide said as I stepped through the hatch and entered the Bridge.
I was exhausted both physically and mentally from the action in the gun turret. Hanging in open space was disorienting and puts a lot of stress on the body. Add the focus needed for targeting vectors and approaches and the mind gets, well tired. I thought I was beat until I saw Agdta.
She was resting her forehead on the workstation. Piles of paper were spread around her, each with a notation or an equation scribbled rashly and almost unreadable. I think I heard a moan escape from her lips.
“Just like you figured,” Captain Xhosa said as I approached him, “They were out of position thanks to your plan.”
“Thank you Sir,” I said looking over at the Navigation station, “Is she alright?”
Kala looked around from the command chair and filled me in, “Agdta has just done the near impossible. She recomputed the arc while plotting the ship’s roll while keeping us on course all while we were increasing power. You missed the most exciting ten minutes of navigating that any of us has ever seen.”
“Impressive,” Ide agreed, “very impressive.”
“Truly admirable,” Xhosa added to the praise, “We’re lucky to have such a find navigator on the Uno Shoda.”
Agdta raised an arm and waved off the accolades. The arms dropped and she resumed her exhausted pose.
I agreed of course that it was a major feat of mental acrobatics. I said as much but inside, I wondered if anyone on the Uno Shoda appreciated my fine marksmanship. They wouldn’t of course, after all, they were civilians.
Our next turn was uneventful as was the next evolution. On the last leg, we went Internal and glided to a Merchant Fleet holding location near hydroxyl Station.
Chapter 23
“No bridge watch while we’re here,” Xhosa explained, “A Fleet pilot will take the ship to an outer area under control of the Navy. During our stay, parts of our cargo sleeve will be configured for holding the volatile, industrial solvents and alcohol based agents. Another section will be pressured for our loads of the more delicate beverages.”
“Aye sir,” Ide said, “we wouldn’t want anything to happen to even a drop of the sweet nectar.”
Kala parted the ship from the cargo sleeve and after the Fleet pilot came aboard, our entire crew piled into a shuttle. As we peeled away from the Uno Shoda, I saw the hydroxyl Station in the distance. The Station was really two connected structures. Each side had pods extending out from the main body but that’s where the similarities ended.
One side of the hydroxyl Station was a huge industrial complex complete with a massive concave solar collecting umbrella. The last time I saw a solar panel like that was near the asteroid belt where smelt Stations needed the raw power to separate the ores into minerals and basic metals. Further highlighting the industrial side were loading docks. They were located at every levels of the smooth sided structure and tugs buzzed around like bees on a flowering bush. It was a shining example of the industrial might of the Galactic Council Realm.
The other side of the hydroxyl Station was smaller by about a third. It was constructed of stacked rings with clear outer walls. As we drew closer, the rounded edges became clear glass making the structure look as if clear tires were stacked with gray bands separating each layer. We approached near the lowest level and began to fly up the face of the Station.
No doubt it was an effect for the tourist but, it was impressive. Four of the decks were restaurants where the patrons sat watching the view into space through the clear walls. The other decks maintained the shape but, the clear walls turned into rounded walls with large windows. Every layer was designed so people, on this side if hydroxyl Station, had an unobstructed view of space.
We flew to the top and dropped into a loading deck. I said dropped because unlike any other Station I’ve been to, the air curtains in this station were in the roof. Not practical but the unique approach did help maintain the artistry of the station’s architecture. Just before we sank into
the roof, I noticed the other side of the Station had contemporary loading docks.
The hydroxyl Station did a nice job of combining tourism and commercialism. We stepped off the shuttle and were greeted by uniformed representatives. There were four of them. One from each of the Spirit Houses, according to Ide.
The first to approach bowed and flashed a message to my PID.
“From the House of Basilio,” the swarthy dark eyed beauty said, “a gift. Our house has for a hundred years taken the gifts of the vine and perfected the art of Wines, Brandies and assorted Liquors. We are pleased to have you as our guest.”
The second was from my Clan, he was about my height and coloring.
“The House of Nevan welcomes you,” he said with a friendly smile, “While here we hope to impress you with the magic we perform with the mighty grain by sharing our Beers, Meads and Ales. A gift to you.”
He ended by swiping his PID over mine. The third was a tall woman with a rich chocolate complexion.
“The House of Betserai bestows this gift in honor of your visit,” she said waving her PID over mine, “There is none in the Realm with the mastery of the still like ours for blended and single barrel Whiskeys, Scotches and Bourbons.”
The fourth represented was blond and even taller than the Betserai lady.
“Tequilas, Vodkas, Gins, Rums and assorted aperitifs,” he said, “These are the pure products from the House of Sölvi. Our gift and our pleasure to welcome you.”
He, as the others, waved his PID over mine. Ide caught up with me after his run through the Spirit Houses’ gauntlet.
“Phelan, Phelan, this is the life is it not?” he said breathlessly, “The gifts are fine but as a member of a Clipper ship everything is free. Dinners at any of the Houses, and drink, my boy, ah the drinks are fee.”
“Free,” I asked, “I thought this was a tourist destination?”
“It is for most people,” Ide replied with a wink, “But for a Clipper crewman, with the ear of a Captain who is buying shipping crates full of nectar, it is paradise.”
“I’ll look into the Houses later,” I said.
“Later my boy? Come let us sample the goods so we may make knowledgeable recommendations to our illustrious Captain,” he stated.
Before I could insist on leaving, or resist Ide’s insistence, Kala finished with the Houses’ representatives.
“I do love this port of call,” she announced with a laugh, “Come on Phelan, we always have one drink as a crew before we go our separate ways.”
“He’s off to who knows where,” Ide announced, “Says he can’t be bothered with the Houses.”
Agdta appeared and took one of my arms and Kala latched onto the other. They guided me away from the gold and glass loading dock.
Xhosa took the lead and in a commanding voice said, “Now remember, I need your recommendations on our purchases. You’ve got five days to sample. Then get back to me.”
I heard my PID ping and assumed the Spirit Houses had just upped my gifts, as well as, the gifts to the other crewmembers. You’ve got to love instant marketing.
We let the Captain choose where to have the customary first drink. He turned down a hallway where the walls and ceiling were covered in oak wood slats. The aroma was woody and rich.
“Does the Station have a Heart plant?” I asked, “The air is rich but I can’t place the atmosphere.”
“No Heart plant,” Kala answered, “The aromas from the fermentation, distilling and aging barrels isn’t healthy for a Heart plant. Or so I’m told.”
We rode the lift down to the House of Basilio level. Xhosa stepped off the elevator and a handsome woman wrapped him in a warm embrace. We edged past the two intertwined bodies. A short distance from the lift, our group entered a small pub.
We had five delicately hand blown glasses in hand and a bottle of really old brandy on the table. Before we could decide if someone should, or shouldn’t, open the brandy, Xhosa and the woman entered the pub.
“My I present the Lady Basilio,” he said to us and to her with a bow, “and may I present the finest Clipper ship crew in the Realm, my team from the Uno Shoda.”
“That one,” the Lady Basilio said with a thick accent, “isn’t of the Merchant Fleet.”
“No he’s not but, for this port of call, Mister Piran is an acting member of my crew. If only temporarily,” Xhosa stated.
“Welcome to the House of Basilio,” Lady Basilio said elegantly. Her smile washed over me like a warm breeze.
I made small talk with the crew and in between conversations, I sent a message to the Navy Commander of hydroxyl Station. She’d received my after action report but didn’t need to see me in person. The message was my check in and the Commander hoped I had a good time on her Station. I planned to, however, first I wanted to have a look at the crates we’d delivered. I excused myself after what I deemed to be a civilized time.
Chapter 24
It took only a flash of my Navy officer’s tag to get me entrance to the back room of the pub. From there, I walked to a service elevator. The lift let me out on a level with a tube connecting the tourist side of the Station to the Industrial side.
The smell hit me first. From the rich aroma of the House of Basilio, I entered a large room that reeked of rubbing alcohol. Industrial utility replaced the opulent wood and brass decor of the tourist station. Hoses and slings hung from the bare alloy walls while rails and tackle straps draped from the ceiling like a demented gymnast’s dream.
I crossed the room and exited a wide doorway. After a long walk down a bending corridor, I took a freight elevator to the cargo loading dock. The dock was three times the size of the room I’d first entered. Hundreds of crates were being moved by forklifts. Those destined for off-loading were placed beyond an air curtain on the space dock where tugs could easily reach them. In another area of the dock, other crates were pulled in from air curtains and lined up for unpacking. These were the crates that held my interest.
I waited for enough crates to be lined up that the forklifts moved to start a new line. Alone in the newly built alloy canyon, I began searching the shipping crates. It took me over an hour to find the crate that I wanted.
Below the ID plate with the crates content codes was a lightly carved Z. This meant it contained drugs coming from the chemical Station. I’d found my target crate now all I had to do was wait for a crewman with a crowbar.
I couldn’t hide among the crates as work crews would soon be swarming around to scan and unload them. On the bulkhead of the cargo deck a catwalk ran along the wall above the elevators. It was a good spot for keeping an eye on the crate. The problem was the suspended walkway was one deck up. I didn’t want to answer questions or identify myself in order to gain access. But I did want to reach that vantage point.
I followed the broad aisles between the crates to where it ended close to the wall. The hand holds built into the side of the crate made the climb easy. It was the open space between the top of the crate and the catwalk that looked hard. From the bottom of the catwalk to where I stood was about 3 meters up and 3 meters out from the edge of the crate.
Pythagorean Theorem would supply the distance I needed to leap. Drawing it from the Theorem made it sound easy. With a full array of ion cannons in a Fighter, almost any distance is possible, but it was just my body or rather my arms that needed to cover the distance. We use the Theorem in flying but not this type of flying. The square root, of the base squared, plus the height squared meant I had to jump about three and a quarter meters.
I backed up on the crate and ran towards the edge. At the last step before I ran out of surface, I launched my body and stretched out my arms. For a second I hung in space, then I continued past the walk. The momentum was carrying me under the catwalk and the wall was rushing at me. If I hit the wall, I’d not only get brained by the sheet metal but the fall to the deck would compound the physical damage. Not a good way for my amateur investigation to end.
Throwing out my rig
ht arm, I managed to wrap it around one of the catwalk’s braces. I swung around and my feet slammed into the wall then traveled around until I was hanging below the walkway. My right ankle ached, my arm was burning and I was at the walkway. Alright under it, but I was stationary.
It took a lot of strength and energy to shimmy up the brace to reach the edge of the walkway. I got a grip on the rail and let go of the brace. For a second, I was suspended by my left hand while dangling above the cargo deck. My right arm resisted an attempt to straighten and my left hand was sliding off the walkway. In desperation, I swung my left leg up and hooked my heel on the walk. By pulling with my left arm and folding it, I was finally able to get a grip with my right hand. Now I had a three-point contact with the walkway. I took four deep breaths.
My right foot came up and I rolled onto the catwalk. I laid on my back sucking in air and feeling the throbbing in my arm and foot. They felt good considering the option of being a grease spot on the cargo deck far below me. After a few minutes, I limped to a spot where I could see the Z marked crate. Once I was settled, I began to massage my sore body parts while I waited for a dirty crewman.
Three hours later I was cramping and really wanted to stand up and stretch my legs. Besides, I was hungry and the thought of a pint was sounding better and better. So what if I found a single smuggler or even a merry band of smugglers, what would that get me? The negative thoughts almost overcame my will power until I rested a hand on my pocket.
My Druid fighting sticks, given to me for a little deed, created a bump under my hand. I decided to wait a little while longer. I’m glad I did.
One of the freight elevators below me opened and a deck crew strolled out from under the walkway. They were joking and teasing each other as any work team does before settling into their routine.
Two of them separated from the group. While most of the crew went to the forklifts, the two holding scanners strolled to separate stacks and began to get readings from the ID Plates.
Galactic Council Realm 1: On Station Page 13