The Atlantis Ship: A Carson Mach Space Opera

by A. C. Hadfield

  “That was a mistake,” she hissed. “I was there for a reason.”

  “We’ve all done things we’re not proud of,” Mach said. Beads of sweat formed on his wrinkled forehead.

  “No, you really don’t understand. I was there for a reason!”

  “Enlighten me.”

  She turned away from him, unable to look him in the eyes. All the while her blade remained exactly where it was, tip-deep into the flesh of his chest. “I don’t want to do these things. I’m compelled, Mach. It’s in my blood. In solitary, I was safe… you were safe. But then you had to bust me out. You don’t understand what you’ve unleashed. There’ll be repercussions.”

  “Everything has consequences,” Mach said. His body relaxed beneath her. His hand gripped her chin and brought her face round in line with his. Their eyes locked. “You don’t want to do this, I understand. You have a contract, you’re compelled, you don’t want the reputation as someone who isn’t capable of delivering.”

  The words hit her hard. The truth always did. But it wasn’t really her reputation she was worried about; it was the repercussions of not fulfilling the contract.

  But still, she couldn’t deny her feelings toward Mach. They’d shared a difficult history together, and she couldn’t deny her emotions when he had got her out of the cell. He, among a few of her family, were the images that had kept her sane in that place.

  “Who took the contract out on me?” Mach asked.

  Adira’s hand gave way and she let go of the blade. It fell uselessly to the side. Mach still didn’t move, his eyes bored into hers, communicating everything and nothing with the micro-expressions of someone who she knew would have to know.

  “I can’t say,” she said, lowering her head. “It’s not important now. I can’t go through it after all. I’m sorry.”

  She grabbed her knife and spun away from him. Before she could leave, he lurched forward and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back to the bed. He stood behind her and held her close, his lips brushing against her ear.

  “When you’re ready, you tell me. I will need you to eventually. You know that, don’t you?”

  “What if the truth would be worse than me killing you?”

  “I guess I’ll take that risk.”

  “This isn’t a game of skillion,” Adira said, running her fingers across his hands as they interlocked around her waist. “It’s not a gamble where the only thing at stake is your eros fund. This would destroy you.”

  “Is that not my choice to make?”

  “So be it. But not now. If I’m staying, we need to remain apart. You’ll cloud my judgment and maybe next time I won’t be so weak.”

  Mach let go of her. She turned round to face him.

  “You’ll be needing this if you change your mind.” He handed her the blade.

  Without a word she exited his berth and headed back to her own.

  “Hey, Adira,” Lassea said, heading toward her in the corridor. “We’re half a day away yet; if you want to grab some more sleep, I’m just taking over from Danick.”

  “It’s okay. I’m not tired,” Adira said. “Mind if I join you on the bridge? I won’t say a word. I just need some company for a while.”

  “Of course I don’t mind. I’d like the company too. It’s all been a bit mad lately. It’ll be nice to have some friendly quiet before we get to Feronia and the crazy starts all over again.”

  Adira nodded her thanks and followed the girl to the bridge, all the while thinking, The crazy has barely started yet, you poor young thing.

  Chapter 15

  The Phalanx-E broke through Feronia’s atmosphere and descended.

  Mach stretched and relaxed back in the captain’s chair. Readings on the overhead monitors were eighty percent red. He hoped the feronians would see the value in acquiring a new E-class shuttle, despite it being bashed up with a terminal drive.

  “This is space traffic control,” a crystal clear voice said in Salus Common through the comms speaker. “Who are you and what’s the purpose of your visit?”

  “Captain Carson Mach, of the Phalanx-E. We’re here to trade.”

  “Please proceed to zone four; I’m sending you coordinates. Representatives will be with you shortly.”

  Mach grunted and shook his head. Feronians were all business. Every time he visited here in the last twenty years, they always drove a hard bargain, and he left with a feeling that he’d come out on the losing side of negotiations.

  Their landing position flashed on the screen. Lassea configured the digits through the holocontrols and the shuttle banked over a jagged range of mountains.

  “It’s a beautiful place,” Danick said, staring out at the sun-drenched glistening green sea.

  “You won’t be seeing much more of it, I’m afraid,” Mach said. “We’ve only got three light atmosphere suits in back. But trust me, it’s an industrial flea pit once you see it up close and personal.”

  “Do you need us to do anything?” Lassea said.

  “Sell the hell out of the shuttle to the feronian rep when they board to inspect it. Make sure to let them know you know all the specs. They’re going to look for reasons to knock down the price.”

  “We can’t hide the damage,” Danick said and glanced back at the scorch marks on the buckled right side. “But we’ll do what we can.”

  “They’ll try every trick in the book to knock you down,” Mach said and stifled a yawn. “Make sure Adira keeps a close eye on them.”

  Sanchez, Adira and Babcock were still sleeping in berths. Neither of the first two had lost their spark. Babcock remained an exuberant anomaly, albeit a useful one that had identified the source of a signal that appeared moments before the Atlantis ship’s arrival. That was more than anyone else had managed to do throughout the years.

  Mach decided to take Sanchez and Babcock to deal for a new ship because of their technical know-how. To have any chance of completing the mission, they needed the best bang for their buck in terms of weapons and speed.

  The industrial area came into view along the coastline. Sun glinted off the roofs of twenty huge metal hangars in a uniform line between the mountains and sea. Fifty supply warehouses, organized in a neat grid system, sat behind them. The main city lay just beyond a spiked peninsula.

  “The marshal’s giving them a contract for two more capital ships,” Lassea said.

  “Doesn’t surprise me,” Mach said. “They’re second to none when it comes to construction. I’m surprised the old bastard hasn’t taken the place over.”

  “Why would he do that?” Danick said. “They don’t cause any problems.”

  “It’s all about the fusion crystals. Feronia has abundant quantities, but the builders don’t control the supply. That dictates the rising prices whenever CWDF places an order.”

  “The CW can afford it,” Lassea said dismissively.

  Mach grinned at her naïve comment.

  It would soon get to a point where a full-scale colonization would be cheaper. The CW and the Salus Sphere were all about peace and protection, but the level of protection depended on price and cooperation. If a new war started, and it seemed likely, the feronians would bring it on themselves if they supplied anything to the Axis Combine.

  The JPs brought the Phalanx-E to a rest in zone four by the side of the hangars. Other small craft were spread around the three-hundred-meter long strip of terracotta bedrock. Ten were old CWDF block design, when they were less bothered with aesthetics. Three faded black horan warbirds, semi-circular in shape and relics of the Century War, were parked directly in front of them. Pirates were here, but that wasn’t unusual. It made sense that some would pool resources to get a larger, more powerful ship.

  Two tall thin feronians, in wireless powered cobalt exoskeleton suits, trudged across the landing zone.

  Sanchez walked through the cockpit, fastening the belt of his leather trousers, and squinted through the tinted window. “Ready to trade?”

  “Grab Babco
ck and suit up,” Mach said. “The others are staying here and giving it the hard sell.”

  Mach groaned out of his chair and followed Sanchez to the back. Feronia, unlike the other three planets in the system, had a breathable but light atmosphere. Most of the spindly workers, who were closely related to the fidesians, used exoskeletons to move around and carry out their work.

  Sanchez thumped his fist against Babcock’s berth door.

  Babcock immediately opened it and stared out with bloodshot eyes. Squid hovered over his shoulder.

  “Get some decent shut-eye?” Mach asked.

  “I’ve been working on decoding the signal. It’s gonna take a few more hours.”

  “Leave it for now and suit up. We’ve got a new ship to buy.”

  Mach, Sanchez and Babcock dressed in the matte black gravity suits and set the pressure to feronian specifications.

  The Phalanx-E’s door opened and the ramp slid out with an inconsistent electric grind. Mach grimaced. Two feronians stood outside in their exos.

  “Welcome to Feronia,” the tallest one said. “What can we do for you today?” He looked the battered craft up and down, muttering something to his friend.

  “We’re looking to part-ex this fine example of CW design for something a little more… combat oriented,” Mach said, his suit relaying his words via the external speakers.

  The feronians nodded at the same time. The shorter one of the two, with nervous hands, looked up at Mach. “I’ll need to value your ship for a part exchange,” he said, consulting an oversized smart-screen attached to the arm of his exo.

  “My crew will show you around,” Mach said and held his arm toward the cockpit.

  Adira was awake and waited with the two JPs. She knew what to do. The feronian clunked up the ramp, its suit gently humming, and edged past Mach.

  Mach received a strong waft of rotting cabbage and crinkled his nose.

  That was their natural smell, but it always took some getting used to.

  The taller, female feronian smiled and bowed her head. “I’m Harn. Follow me and I’ll show you what we have to trade.”

  “I’m Mach. That’s Sanchez and Babcock.”

  Babcock cleared his throat. “And this is Squid.”

  A warm breeze blew across the landing zone, providing little relief from the thick humid air, as Harn led them across it. The sun beat down directly overhead. A bead of sweat trickled along Mach’s back.

  Metal crashed together in the distance. Two dirty white rectangular machines, with pairs of folding mechanical arms, towered over the walls of a scrapyard and carried around mangled pieces of wreckage.

  “What kind of ship are you looking for?” Harn said.

  Mach quickened his pace and walked alongside her. “Heavily armed and fast. Do you have any capital refits?”

  “Not at the moment. The CWDF acquired most of our stock yesterday. We’ve got two C-class ships with quad-mounted laser cannons that have just been refurbed.”

  Sanchez shook his head. “Not good enough. Do you have any with ion cannons?”

  “Seventy-five HPL isn’t good enough either,” Babcock said. “We need at least sixty, preferably faster, and over one APD.”

  “I’m afraid you’re out of luck,” Harn said. “We need to keep our contracts with our main suppliers.”

  “You haven’t got anything?” Mach said. “What about the other manufacturers on the planet?”

  “I don’t have access to their stock. It’s safe to assume that they’re in the same situation as us.”

  “We’ve got access to the CW bank.”

  Harn stopped and turned at the edge of the first hangar, her suit’s shoulders smoothly twisted around. “How many eros are we talking?”

  Mach gave her his best smile. “Name your price?”

  “We do have an option that fits your description, but I need to speak to the master-builder. It’s an experimental design we commissioned ourselves.”

  “Sounds promising,” Mach said. “Tell him our money’s good and we have an E-class to trade.”

  “If you reduce the price,” Babcock added, “I’ll provide full technical and performance reports. You’ll be getting a free field test.”

  “It’s not free if we reduce the price,” Harn said, reverting from helpful to the sharp salesperson that Mach expected. “Your shuttle looks close to salvage and we currently have orders coming in from all parts of the Sphere and beyond.”

  “Okay,” Mach said, realizing she knew they had a weak hand. “Speak to your boss. We want to make a deal if the ship meets our requirements.”

  Harn raised her smart-screen. “Master-builder, we have an interested party for the Jaguar Mk 1.”

  She waited for a response. Mach guessed they named it after an extinct animal from Earth for human appeal. Feronians were clever like that.

  “Bring them to hangar two. I’ll deal with this personally,” a high-pitched voice warbled through Harn’s comm.

  “This way, please.”

  Harn led them past the open slide doors of the first hangar. Mach peered into the large cavernous space. Eight ten-meter-high robotic arms worked on building the shell of a destroyer’s superstructure. Sparks fizzed from the frame as they attached parts. A Feronian sat in front of a shiny black control panel and monitored the work.

  The doors to the second hangar were also wide open. Harn entered and stood in front of a large, completed matte black ship. Quad laser cannons on a spherical turret were attached to the bottom of the one-hundred-meter-long hull. A swivel turret, mounting a ten-meter-long ion cannon, sat on the roof, bigger than a destroyer’s but smaller than a capital ship’s. Thick wings sloped from the midsection to the floor at thirty-degree angles. Each had four torpedo tubes.

  Two feronians clanked down the side ramp, gesturing with screens and chatting. Sanchez looked up and whistled. “That’s a beast. You’ll have to rob the senate to pay for it.”

  Mach wanted it like no other ship before. He hadn’t even looked inside, but guessed it was equally as impressive as the exterior.

  An unusually stocky feronian, wearing a dark green coverall without an exoskeleton, walked out of an office along the side of the hangar and approached them.

  “That’s the master-builder,” Harn said.

  “What’s he like?” Babcock said.

  “He builds ships,” Harn said without a hint of sarcasm.

  Sanchez turned away and covered his mouth. Babcock groaned and whispered something to Squid. The little machine let out three beeps and spread its tentacles.

  “Harn informs me that you’re interested in the Jaguar?” the master-builder said.

  “That’s right,” Mach said and shook his hand. “You don’t look like a typical feronian, if you don’t mind me saying?”

  “Not at all.” The master-builder looked down at his own physique. “I’m just back from spending five years in vestan shipyards. We’ve moved across to their drive technology and I’ve been learning about their operation.”

  “How fast is she?” Babcock said.

  “Two-point-five APD on the new Gamma Drive and fifty-five HPL on LD,” the master-builder said and looked over his shoulder at the Jaguar. “If you’re serious about buying, I need evidence that you can afford it.”

  Babcock produced a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his brow. He moved toward the ramp. “Mind if I take a look around the engineering deck?”

  “Yes, I do.” The master-builder gestured toward his office with a stiff arm. “Finance first, then you look around. We don’t deal with time wasters.”

  The group followed him inside his office and sat behind a metal desk. A light on the ceiling beamed down holographic images of ships to glass plates that lined the walls.

  “How much do you want for her?” Mach said. “You can knock off twenty million for the Phalanx-E.”

  The master-builder let out a throaty laugh. “Five million for your piece of junk. That leaves a balance of ninety million eros.”


  “That’s insane,” Sanchez said. “We could buy a twenty-year-old horan destroyer for that kind of money.”

  “At a time like this?” the master-builder asked. “The Axis and CW are laying their hands on every battleship they can find. You won’t find another option in a hundred light-years.”

  Mach knew he was exaggerating the distance, but he took the master-builder’s point. The problem was, they didn’t have that kind of money and Morgan wouldn’t give them a tenth of it.

  “Your silence speaks volumes,” the master-builder said. He pushed a button on his desk and the office door slid shut.

  Babcock glanced at Mach and raised his eyebrows.

  “What’s going on?” Sanchez said and took a step toward the desk.

  Mach grabbed Sanchez’s shoulder and eased him back. Feronians didn’t bring in the cavalry for people turning up with a lack of funds. Plenty window-shopped and checked on current prices. He also still had enough eros to buy a C-class.

  The master-builder peered beyond them at the office window and returned his focus on Mach. “Perhaps we can come to an arrangement.”

  “I’m all ears,” Mach said.

  “The orcus still control the mines and supply of fusion crystals. They have a stake in two of the companies along the coast.”

  “And you’re in short supply,” Babcock said. “So you can’t run your new vestan drives and beat the competition?”

  “I’ve sold arms to the orcus before,” Sanchez said. “Nasty bunch.”

  The master-builder nodded. “You understand my predicament. If you bring me four dextans of fusion crystals, the ship is yours.”

  Mach did a quick conversion in his head. Roughly two kilos’ worth. That was enough fusion crystals to power ten destroyers and a couple of weeks rock-blasting for their small team, if they could find the right tools. “We haven’t got time to go working in one of your pits.”

  “An armed convoy transfers crystals from the mine to the orcus building in zone six every evening. Most get immediately distributed to the Axis or the CW contracts. That gives you two options. I know who you are, Mach, and you, Sanchez, but I don’t know the old man or his little creature.”