by James Wilks
“Thank you, thank you,” he said, looking down at her. “We’ll get to it soon, but I’m a little busy at the moment.”
“I can only imagine.” She had genuine sympathy for the man. There weren’t many stations this far out into Jovian space, and although Titan Prime was one of the biggest, they all relied on each other to some degree. If nothing else, the knowledge that there were other stations nearby, relatively speaking, helped cut into the feeling of isolation that came with traveling to and living among the outer planets. The journey between Earth and Mars felt almost like a drive from New York to Philadelphia at this point. Depending on the orientation of the planets and the thrust involved, it could be done in a just a few days. By contrast, heading out to the Jovian sector was like crossing the Sahara desert, and the vastness and emptiness of space threatened to addle the mind.
“I should warn you, there aren’t many reporters on this moon, but if any of them learn that you witnessed what happened to Cronos Station, they’ll be up your ass in no time.” He held up his hands quickly and laughed, a high chuckle that didn’t seem to match his baritone voice. “Don’t worry; they won’t hear it from me.”
“I appreciate that.” Staples wasn’t really surprised by the sheriff’s lax attitude towards a crew of people who had witnessed what might be one of the greatest tragedies of the past decade. Men and women in his position tended to be somewhat prone to myopia. Their asteroid, moon, or station was their world, and their responsibility ended where naked space began. Besides, Titan Prime had launched ships to investigate the wreckage of Cronos Station; Gringolet had passed them on their way in. They would likely determine, as Charis had after looking at the data, that the station was destroyed from the inside out. Whatever the Nightshade vessel that had attacked them had done, it hadn’t launched ordinance at the station. Even if her interlocutor decided to arrest, charge, or question them later, they wouldn’t be hard to find, and with the ship locked down, there was nowhere to run.
“If it’s all right with you, I’d like to clear my crew for R and R. I’ll send their ID information to your office. I’ll also need a contractor to help with repairs, and a supplier to replace some damaged parts, including some of our external guns.” She hoped their clear intention to bring money into the tiny economy would help to mollify the man.
“That all sounds good, Captain.” He put out his hand, and she shook it again. “I’m likely to call on you again.” As he walked away and his men fell in beside him, Staples turned to address the others, but Dinah was already gone.
There was a knock on Staples’ door a scant hour after she and Templeton had granted the crew shore leave. When they had done so, they had warned the crew to stay in groups. There was always the possibility that Victor’s agents were somewhere in Titan Prime. In truth, it would have been far safer for them all to stay onboard the ship, but Templeton had told her that the crew desperately needed shore leave, and she had agreed. There was little point in their continued survival, he had pointed out, if they had to hide perpetually.
When Staples opened her cabin door, Declan Burbank stood facing her. She was not entirely surprised, but she had hoped to postpone this conversation a bit longer. She tried to read him as he stood staring at her, but his face was inscrutable. It even occurred to her for a moment that he might attack her, but she thought it unlikely.
“Can I come in, Captain?”
She hesitated only a second, then stepped aside carefully. The gravity on Titan was about a seventh of Earth’s, and a strong bound could easily result in a hard collision between her head and the ceiling. He brushed past her, turned, and sat lightly in one of her chairs. She wanted to leave the door open, but it was standard safety protocol never to leave a door open on a ship, and to do so now would have been a clear insult to him. She had no desire to exacerbate whatever tirade was coming her way, so she closed the door and sat down across from him.
Declan was a broad man with short dark hair and a scraggly goatee. On Earth, Staples imagined that he rode a motorcycle and spent time in tough bars. He had been a cargo roadie for the past year, one of the two that she employed for manual labor around the ship and when jobs called for it. His record had told her that he was an ex-convict, and she had gotten a martyr-like thrill out of giving the man a second chance, but she didn’t know him well. He intimidated her a bit, and it didn’t help that he was staring at her intently. She had trouble holding his gaze, and eventually she looked away.
“I’m leaving, Captain.”
“I would have thought you already had. Everyone else split the second Templeton gave permission for R and R.” She met his eyes briefly, then looked away again.
“No, I mean I’m leaving.” He waited a second for her to understand. “This has been a good place for me, but it’s not anymore.”
She leaned forward, placed her hands flat on the table, and finally answered his gaze. “You don’t have to do that, Declan. I’m sorry for what I said. It wasn’t right.” She didn’t know who had told him, and though she had been tempted to try to find out and berate them, she had realized it didn’t matter. She had said it, and now she had to deal with it.
“I’m not angry,” he said placidly. He placed his arms on the table as well, and Staples saw that they were covered in tattoos. She had never noticed before. “I mean, I was. God, I was pissed. But then I thought about it. I done some things. I used to drink a lot. Gambled too. Was bad to my wife, to my little girl. Then I did some time. My wife left me. I ain’t seen my little girl in almost three years.”
Staples sat still, confused by the direction the conversation had taken.
“After I got out, I didn’t think I’d get a job. I got through AA, but then I fell off the wagon a few times. Truth is, I was just gonna head right back to prison before long. Then I saw your ad, and I thought ‘who the hell would want to live on a goddamned spaceship?’ But I started thinking about it. I couldn’t stop, you know? And the more I thought about it, the more I realized that me on a spaceship might be the best thing for my ex-wife, for my daughter, and maybe for me too. I wasn’t going in any kind of good direction. So I applied and I met Don.”
Templeton had handled the hiring of both Declan and Yoli, with Staples providing only a rubber stamp on his choice. “Did Don know all of this about you?”
“Yeah. I told him in the interview. He told me that you didn’t allow drinking on your ship, and that’s when I knew it was the right place for me. I didn’t think I’d get it, you know? There were like ten other people, but I did. I haven’t had a drink since.”
Templeton hadn’t related any of this to Staples, and when she thought about it, she wasn’t surprised. Of course she had seen his record, but the alcoholism, the familial difficulties were news to her. Templeton had given this man a second chance. It was exactly the kind of thing her first mate would do, and she felt a rush of self-criticism for patting herself on the back for hiring an ex-con. Templeton had been the real savior in this man’s life. What had been a simple matter of business for her had altered the course of his life. She had never really bothered to get to know him, and now he was leaving.
“So like I said, it’s been a good place. But it hurt, I’m not gonna lie, hearing about how you told the robot to leave me, told Doc to treat someone else before me. I was angry. But then I thought about it, and I think if push came to shove, I’d choose that little girl over myself too.” Staples knew he wasn’t saying this to drive the knife into her, but it stung anyway. “I’ve had my chance, made my mistakes. That girl’s young. She hasn’t messed up her life, hasn’t hurt people the way I have.”
Staples thought about the air pump, about the brain damaged man they had left on Cronos Station who was now dead along with Evelyn, and said nothing.
“But I don’t think I want to stick around and find out who else you’d choose over me. I don’t want to know how far down the totem pole I sit, if you know what I mean.”
“Declan…” she began, and he waited
for her to say more, but she found she didn’t have anything else to say.
“Besides, I figure I can do some good. We’re all scared to leave the ship because without our little robot friend, Victor’s gonna kill us, right? Well, I figure someone’s gotta test that theory. Might as well be me. If I’m still walking and talking in a month or two, I’ll send word and you can all get off and run.”
“That’s very noble of you,” she said.
“Eh,” he waved a hand dismissively, “let’s be honest. I’m not that noble a guy. You’re all wrapped up in this intergalactic drama, and I just move crates around. There’s no work for me left on the ship.” This was patently untrue. Declan had put in long and hard hours just like the rest of them while repairing the ship on the trip from Mars, but she suspected she knew what he meant. “And despite the fact that I’ve managed to stay sober for over a year, the real reason I’m here is to work and send money to my little girl. I’ve got a lot to make up for, and I don’t feel like we’re gonna take on any delivery jobs anytime soon.”
“I can’t dispute that,” she replied. Money was actually becoming a real concern. The repairs to and refueling of Gringolet would be expensive, and this time there was no massive power company footing the bill. “Are you sure?”
He nodded gravely. “Yeah, I am. I can find work here. Always work for a laborer in a place like this.”
She considered his points one by one and realized that even if she could convince him to stay, she wasn’t sure that it was the right thing to do. Victor might not place much value on his life, or any human life for that matter, but at least he wasn’t pretending to be Declan’s friend, she thought. The guilt was fresh and painful, and it tempted her to argue with him, but she couldn’t deny the man his right to live and spend his life as he chose.
“All right. I appreciate you coming to talk to me. For what it’s worth, I am sorry, and I wish I had taken the time to get to know you before now.”
He stood and she did the same, drifting off the deck plating for a second before settling on her feet.
“I wish you had too,” he said, and there was bitterness there, she knew, but genuine regret as well. “But it doesn’t matter now. Don’t be too rough on yourself. I was leaning this way anyway, I think. Take care of yourself, Captain, and take care of this crew. And that little girl.” He stepped past without looking at her again, opened the door, and was gone.
An hour later, Staples was planning to meet with Templeton and take in some of the sights of Titan Prime. As one of the largest Jovian outposts, the town kept some tourist-friendly distractions. One of the most common was Saturn itself. Though the planet had been visible from the ship, there were a number of restaurants and observation lounges with large windows to allow patrons to view the gas giant in a tranquil and unobstructed setting. The mining of the moon, much of which was done under the domes and tubeways, was also open to tourism in certain places and at certain times, and featured cutting edge ore and mineral processing. Additionally there were casinos, low gravity game parks, and powerful telescopes pointed at other Jovian planets and beyond. Because it was so far from the light of Sol, Titan Prime was one of the best places to observe Alpha Centauri and other nearby systems.
Staples slung a small backpack over her shoulders and stepped gingerly out into the hallway. A movement to her right caught her attention, and she gasped and turned suddenly. Brutus stood a meter from her, his head cocked to one side.
“You startled me,” she said a bit breathlessly.
“My apologies, Captain. I wanted to speak with you about some matters of ship maintenance.”
Staples felt exhausted by the idea. She loved her ship, but she was ready to be off it for a while. She was sick of administrative decisions for the moment, and her conversation with Declan still pained her. The idea of stepping back into her cabin was repellant, so she leaned lightly against the wall of the empty hallway and said, “Go on.”
“It is my understanding that Mr. Templeton has gone to arrange repairs from local work crews on the ship. Is this correct?” Staples nodded. “I don’t mean to be indelicate, but do we have the funds to have the work done?”
Wondering where he was headed with this, she answered, “More or less. The job that got us into this mess paid well, but that’s going quickly as we continue to patch up the ship. Truth is, I don’t think we can reasonably expect any paying work in the near future, and we certainly can’t take on any passengers. Why?”
“This is an area in which I feel that I can help. As you know, money is largely a matter of data at this point. Data can be manipulated.” As he spoke, his head made minute adjustments, and the robotic arms gesticulated.
“Are you offering to steal us some money?”
“Create is a better word, Captain. No one will suffer as a result.”
“That would be… very useful,” she conceded. “Is there risk involved?”
“Some. Victor will be looking for this kind of alteration of banking funds on the net, and of course, he will be monitoring your bank accounts. Before downloading to this body and joining your crew, I took the precaution of creating a number of shell corporations. I can arrange for one of them to use holdings to pay for the repairs and refit of the ship.”
Staples frowned. “So where does the risk come in?”
“Well, the transactions should be small enough to escape notice. The more money I allocate to you and the rest of the crew, the more likely it is to draw attention.”
She nodded. “Makes sense. One of the biggest mistakes that thieves make, classically speaking, is running around spending their spoils. Nothing says ‘I just robbed a bank’ like buying a new car.”
“Indeed. I cannot make you or your crew millionaires, at least not safely. I am sorry.”
A laugh escaped her, and she pushed off the wall. She briefly forgot about the low gravity and almost went sailing into the far wall before she put a hand out to steady herself. Once she had her feet, she said, “I wouldn’t worry about it. I wouldn’t mention it to the crew, but I wouldn’t worry about it. If our biggest issue is that you can’t make us millionaires just yet, I think we’ll be fine. Is that all?”
“It is also best that I conduct these transactions from a variety of public access terminals outside the ship. Doing so will help me mask my work, and it will also prevent them being traced back to Gringolet.”
“I can’t imagine that would matter that much. If he tracks you, Victor will know what the money is for, especially if it’s spent on ship repairs.”
“Yes, but what Victor knows is of less concern than what he can prove. If he can prove you or any member of your crew has broken the law, then we may have the authorities pursuing us in addition to my father’s warship.”
“That would be problematic, I admit.” She nodded again in agreement. “However, is it really safe for you to leave the ship? I thought one of the whole points of this was to keep your existence a secret?”
“Captain, an automaton walking about Titan Prime is far less likely to generate attention than any member of your… eclectic crew.” He held up his robotic hands like exhibits as he spoke. “In my experience, these bodies are akin to pets: perhaps the subject of idle curiosity, but hardly a source of suspicion. I would argue that I will be safer than the rest of you during our time here.”
She chuckled at the irony. “I can find no fault in your logic, Brutus.”
His head cocked to one side again. “That is because there is none.”
It was the evening of the day after Gringolet had docked, and considering all the trouble and grief they had dealt with recently, things were going better than Staples could have hoped. Templeton had worked his magic, and repairs of her ship were underway at a reasonable pace and price. Titan Prime did not see a large amount of ship traffic. Perhaps one or two ships a day came and left, mostly commuter or supply ships. The men and women who worked in the mines operating the machinery that cut into and extracted the rock and mineral
s were happy for a chance to do something different and more lucrative, and so there was often competition for the manual labor aspect of ship repair.
Some of the repairs, the replacing of the damaged flak and slug cannons for example, required more specialized knowledge. John Park, the second engineer, was overseeing the majority of these. They had not seen Dinah since she had disappeared from the boarding tube the previous morning. Templeton had raised concerns about her. None of them was supposed to travel about the outpost alone, and her absence was uncharacteristic of the woman. Staples could not argue with him on that point. Dinah had spent more than one shore leave in the ReC or the reactor itself making adjustments to the ship. But she suspected that something was bothering her chief engineer, and she had granted shore leave to the crew. What Dinah did with it was up to her.
As she, her first mate, and Kojo Jang sat in a restaurant after dinner, Templeton was making his points again.
“But what if something happened to her?” Templeton insisted.
“Then we’d probably hear about it,” she answered. “This is a small town. Besides, if Dinah ran into trouble that she couldn’t handle, what the hell are we going to do about it?”
Jang’s deep voice joined the conversation. “Dinah can take care of herself better than the rest of you.” Jang did not add the word combined at the end of his sentence, but it was implied.
Templeton blew out a sigh and nodded. “I guess you’re right. I just don’t like that she’s not answering your calls.”
“I haven’t called her, Don,” Staples said and took a sip of her beer.
“You haven’t?” He looked at her with surprise.
She shrugged. “Shore leave is shore leave. We could use her help refitting the ship, but if she wants to be absent, I’m assuming it’s for a good reason. She’s done more than enough for us to earn her an undisturbed break, and John can handle things while she’s gone.”