by Elle Casey
I reach the entrance to my bunk and pass my hand in front of the keypad. The portal door slides open and I step through, inhaling the scent of Langlade and whatever perfumes he used to make himself smell more like an Earth tree than a man. It’s not entirely unpleasant, but I’m still going to have the gingers run a vacuum filter cycle on this place. I need to sleep without distractions, and reminders of the guy who lost this ship to me, and the idea that he’s probably not going to walk away as quietly as I would like, isn’t going to cut it.
Falling onto the bunk fully clothed, I lie on my back and stare at the ceiling above me. Like just about every other part of the ship’s skeleton, it’s made of gray steeloid, smooth save for the bumps of laser weld that show up as small slivers of shadow. A warm, fuzzy light coming from glow-orbs along the edges of the room makes this surface appear almost soft and not the impossibly hard one I know it to be. I could almost call this place comfortable. I’m already feeling drowsy.
Now that I finally have a moment of peace to myself, I can find out what kind of onboard captain’s assistant I have. I’ve never like the idea of depending on them much, all too familiar with the stories of rogue computer systems causing massive casualties on other ships in the past, but I wouldn’t mind a second set of eyes on the place now that I know how easy it is to sneak on board and grow biogrids under the captain’s nose.
I speak out into the chamber. “Computer, identify yourself.”
There’s a whir and a click before the answer arrives over the loudspeaker in my room. “I am known as Adelle.”
“Adelle, I am your new captain. My name is Cass. This is my bunk. Do you understand?”
“I understand, but must verify your authority with our engineers.”
I probably should have gone through this process of switching over command before, but sometimes that verification can take a long time —some of the computers on these older rigs still need a lot of hand-coding— and we didn’t have that luxury at the station. It felt like Langlade was breathing down my neck, and I know his stupid pilot was ready to storm the ship. Leaving when we did was the right decision, I’m sure of it. But now I have to wait for the computer to switch over before we can do the ice-grab; it’ll be too risky without Adelle’s help.
“You do that, Adelle. And in the meantime, I’m going to take a nap. We have an ice-grab in five hours.”
“Yes, Cass. I understand.”
I can’t keep the smile out of my voice, but it doesn’t matter. Adelle won’t hold it against me. She doesn’t care that I haven’t had a computer to do my bidding in three years. Three very long years.
“Adelle, wake me in four hours.”
“Yes, Cass. I will wake you in four hours. I do not yet know your preferences. Would you like a harsh alarm sound or a soft one?”
“Start soft and see where that gets us.”
“Yes, Cass. I will start with the soft alarm and only continue to the harsher ones if you do not respond. Is that correct?”
“Yep, that’s correct.” I barely get the words out before I’m falling asleep.
Chapter Thirteen
I SHOOT OUT OF BED like someone’s set off a blast under my bed. And I’m pretty sure someone has, with the bomb detonations I hear going off around me.
“What the hell!” I scream, bringing my dagger up in front of me, even though I can barely see. My hair is completely covering my face. I quickly swipe it out of the way to ready myself for the imminent threat bearing down on me.
“Welcome back from your nap, Captain Cass.” Adelle’s voice is eerily soothing in the midst of the chaos.
I blink a few times, trying to figure out what the hell is going on.
“Uhh…” The glow-orb of realization starts to flicker and then burn in my brain. “Adelle?"
“Yes, Captain?”
I slowly sheath my knife as I realize there’s no mutiny afoot complete with laser-loaded weapons and plasma rays. I’ve just been awakened from my nap as I requested.
“What in the hell was that?”
“That was your alarm, Captain.”
“I thought we said we were going to start with the soft alarm first.”
“Yes, you are correct. We did.”
I sigh, realizing I’m dealing with an early generation device. My father’s onboard compubots were so much more intuitive than Adelle seems to be. I can only imagine what her humanform kit looks like. Knowing Langlade, she’ll have giant, malleable boobs. So kinky. So gross.
“I guess my idea of soft doesn’t usually include bombs going off next to my head.” I run my fingers through my hair, afraid to look in the mirror over Langlade’s sink, but walking in that direction anyway.
“I started with a stringed instrument, worked my way through various droning engine noises and bells, and then finished with the wartime effects. You are a very heavy sleeper, Captain.”
I stare at my reflection in horror. What happened to my face? To my hair? I look like a hundred-year-old woman who used her head to clean out an air duct during its yearly service. Using my fingers to untangle this nest is not going to get the job done. Searching the sink area, I find a comb and work with it as best I can to tame the beast that is my hair.
“I haven’t slept in about three days,” I say by way of explanation. Not that I need to do that. Adelle doesn’t need my excuses. She has a job and she gets it done. Simple. Compubots are nothing if not efficient.
“That’s not healthy, Captain. The human body needs at least six hours of REM sleep per twenty-four hour period to function at optimum levels.”
“Yeah, well, tell that to my father,” I say offhandedly. He loved getting me up after only four hours. Sleep deprivation was his greatest tool.
“Reaching First Major General Valemar Kennedy of the Omega Systems Group Defense Station, Elite Command.”
“NO!” I scream, flipping the comb out of my hand in my panic. “Drop the reach! Drop the reach! Do not make that reach, Adelle!”
“Dropping the reach.”
My heart is beating so hard, it feels like it’s trying to escape my chest. And I don’t blame it one bit. I don’t want to be around for that contact either. I hate that this compubot knows who I am and how I’m connected to the rest of the universe. She obviously picked up my fingerprints from the keypads I’ve used and quickly made the connection through the OSG’s public database. It’s all part of her authentication process, of course. The one I told her to execute. I should have known this would happen, and hate that I was stupid enough to miss it.
“Holy shit, that was close.” Sweat comes out of every pore on my body and mingles together to make big, fat droplets that slide down my skin and soak through my flightsuit.
“What was close, Captain?”
I grip the edges of the sink and lean into it, trying to gain control of my organic systems. I feel like I’m on the edge of a full breakdown. “Adelle, listen to me, and listen to me carefully, okay?” I have to breathe in and out a few times slowly before I can continue. “Do not ever, under any circumstances, make contact with that man. Do you understand?”
“My directive is to follow your every order to the letter.”
“Good.”
“And so if you order me to reach your father again, I must do as you say.”
I drop my face into my hands. Holy shit, what I wouldn’t give for a live person some days. “It was just an expression, Adelle. My overriding order that you should always follow is to never contact him in any case, in any situation, no matter what I say.”
“You may change your mind. I must be able to adapt.”
“I’m not going to change my mind. Believe me.”
“Humans are incapable of remaining steadfast in the face of every adversity. There could come a time that you would change your mind. I need a codeword to override your latest order.”
I have tried and failed to argue with an onboard computer before. So instead of trying to change this computer’s pseudo thought process
es, I humor it instead. “Fine, you want a code word? My code word is asshole.”
“Noted. Your code word is asshole.”
“No, wait. Lying asshole. That’s the code: Lying asshole.”
“Noted. Your code is lying asshole.”
Memories churn in my head, getting me all fired up again. “Wait, it’s not that; it’s lying sack of shit asshole.”
“That’s a very long codeword.”
I snort, still high on the anger my memories have conjured. “Yeah, but it’s accurate.”
“You are most likely to need your codeword during a period of great stress. In periods of great stress, humans are prone to forgetting longer codewords or phrases. Might I suggest you use a simpler version of this codeword?”
Adelle’s right, I know she is. But I wish I could punch her in the face anyway. Maybe those malleable hooters will be good for something after all. Sometimes, nothing says ‘Now you’ve really pissed me off’ better than a good, old-fashioned boob punch.
“Fine. We’ll just use asshole.”
“Noted. Your override codeword is asshole.”
And now that we have that under control, it’s time to get down to business. I go back to trying to fix my hair. “Adelle, do whatever you have to do with the engineers to get me authenticated as captain. We’ll need you for the ice-grab.”
“I have already completed the authentication process. Your status as captain has been confirmed.”
“And the ship’s new name is the DS Anarchy, Adelle. Please change it in your systems.”
“I have already done so, Captain.”
“Excellent.” I smile as the knot that was holding the right side of my hair hostage finally relinquishes its hold and allows the comb to slide through. A few more strokes later and it’s smooth and shiny. Maybe a bit too shiny.
I lean in toward the mirror to see my reflection better. Then I look down at the comb and touch my fingers to the tines. They slide way too easily, and a residue remains on my fingertips.
“Goddammit.” Figures. Langlade uses some kind of hair grease, and now I’m using it too. On one side of my head. Perfect.
Baebong’s voice comes over the speaker. “Captain, this is Lieutenant So-Sun.”
I smile at his formality. “Go ahead, Lieutenant.”
“You ready to grab some ice? Gingers say we’re a go.”
“Yeah. I’ll be up there in a couple minutes.” I scan the room for some sort of grease remover, but the only thing that jumps into my line of sight is a hat. Knowing it’s probably just as full of the grease as the comb, I give it a pass. The elastic I always keep in my pocket is going to have to do, and if anyone says anything about my ears, I’ll just poke them with my knife.
Chapter Fourteen
WHEN WE ARRIVE AT THE ice fields of Xylera, the flightdeck is full. Everyone but Tam and Rollo are up here with me, looking through the clearpanels at the gorgeous blue and white surface of the planet many drifters come to in order to replenish their water stores. As much as filtration science has advanced, we still can’t seem to recapture all that we use, necessitating these runs from time to time. I hate that I’m still dependent on something outside my ship in order to exist, but life is what it is.
“That’s not good,” says Baebong, staring at a big warship hovering maybe fifty kilometers below us.
“What are they doing here?” Lucinda asks.
“I don’t know,” I say, kind of mumbling because my brain is racing to make sense of what I’m seeing. “Probably nothing good.”
“Do warships do ice-grabs?” Jeffers asks.
“Not generally.” I stare at the image of the WS and try to come up with a single reason why it would be here. “They use supply stations to take care of their water needs. I haven’t seen one in years; not since the last uprising at Gartan.”
“What were you doing on Gartan?” Gus asks, sounding impressed. It’s not the nicest planet around, populated mostly by outlaws and shady businessmen.
“I happened to be on a cargo ship that was supplying food to some troops, and we landed there.”
Gus shakes his head. “Seems like every ten years or so someone tries to make a grab for power.”
“Yeah, but the OSG doesn’t tolerate anyone taking that but themselves.” My bitterness comes through in my tone, but I can’t help it. I hate the OSG more than anyone I know. “We’re lucky they’ve been content to colonize planets and set up the infrastructure to service them.” It’s the reason I’m flying a DS — so I can remain under their radar and live my life the way I want to and not how someone tells me I should. It’s pretty much why anyone’s a drifter, because living under a biodome or on a station can be a really easy life. When I lived with my father, I never went without … unless he was holding something back to teach me a lesson, of course.
“Maybe they’re just hanging out,” Gus suggests, his tone telling me he doesn’t believe that crap any more than I do.
“Bring ‘em up on the comm,” I say, sitting straighter in my chair. “Keep the visual off, though.”
“Good call,” Lucinda says.
I glare at her for a second because I don’t need her approval or disapproval, but then go back to the clearpanel, listening as Baebong brings up the main frequency that begins to appear as he points the comm’s directional beam at the WS.
“Warship, this is the DS Anarchy, twenty clicks aft and above. Over.”
We hear nothing for several long seconds. Sweat trickles down my back.
“Warship, this is the DS Anarchy, twenty clicks aft and above. Over.”
Another frequency lights up in red, blinking in the corner of the clearpanel.
“That’s an emergency transmission,” Jeffers says, pointing to it.
“Get me in,” I say.
“On it,” Baebong says, his hands flying over the controls.
Lucinda rests her hand on the arm of my chair, but I let her leave it there. I get the need for support right now. Our maiden voyage with me at the helm and we have a warship popping up and someone calling out an emergency. What the hell? Who did I piss off in another life, anyway?
“Hello, to the DS aft and above that warship, this is the DS Arcadia with an encrypted reach.”
I nod to Baebong and he presses his comm button. “DS Arcadia, your reach is accepted.” He selects the responding encryption passcode and puts it into place so we can hear the rest of his message. The emergency transmittor’s tone changes to something a lot more sinister.
“Listen, that slimy bastard of a warship? It’s trying to stop our ice-grab. Get out while you can.”
I frown, looking at all my crew members in turn. Halting their ice-grab? What does that even mean? I take control of the comm knowing that nobody here has any more answers than I do.
“Arcadia, this is Captain Cass of the DS Anarchy. What in the hell are you talking about?”
“All I know is we’re in mid-grab and they show up, telling us to shut it down so they can come aboard. Claiming rights to control water now? Fuck me, we’re ass over aft down here. I suggest you get gone before they decide to shut you down too.”
“But they have no right to do that!” I’m intimately familiar with the regulations concerning water rights on every single Dark Settlement of the Triangulum Galaxy. Water is free for everyone. The continuation of our species —something that was seriously in doubt after Earth was poisoned— depends on it.
“Yeah, we know. And yet, here they are. Listen, I’ve gotta go, but if you want help, go to the coordinates I’m transmitting now. Cutting comm in five seconds.”
Five beats later and he’s gone, and the next transmission we receive is from the warship.
“DS Anarchy, this is Warship Budapest. We acknowledge your transmission. State your purpose for being at Xylera.”
What would a real captain do? Tell the truth? Lie? I look at my crew members, but they’re all depending on me to handle this.
“My purpose is my business, Budapest
, but I thank you for your concern.”
Lucinda’s hand slides off my chair and her arms cross as she stares out the clearpanel with everyone else. I take it as a positive sign. She looks tough, like she’s not going to take any shit from this warship commander. I turn my attention back to the clearpanel and wait for a response. He doesn’t make me wait long.
“Be advised, Anarchy, that as of this day we control all water extraction from Xylera and Haloid, so if that’s part of your plan, we need to come onboard for an inspection and you’ll need to pay the tariff.”
“Inspection and tariff my ass,” I say to my crew. To the Budapest, however, I smile and say, “Roger that, Budapest. We’ll be on our way.”
“What are you going to do?” Gus asks. “We need that water.”
“Let’s go find out what the Arcadia has for us, first.” I look over at Baebong. “You have those coordinates dialed in?”
“Yep. All set.”
“Bring us around the far side of Xylera. Don’t go direct.”
“Whatever you say, boss.”
I look over at Jeffers and he’s nodding, but not looking at me.
“What do you want me to do?” Lucinda asks. For the first time since I’ve met her, she doesn’t sound pissed off. More like scared.
“Go talk to the guy we have in the holding cell. Rollo. He said something about changes coming. Find out if he knows anything about this.” I gesture out the clearpanel at the Budapest.
“Okay.”
As she heads for the door, I finish my thought. “And see what you can find on the biogrid to trade.”
“Trade for what?” she asks, hesitating at the portal.
“Water.”
Holy shit. My first full day, my first ice-grab, and suddenly the universe is changing on me? What are the odds of that happening? Hol-ee shit. I’m glad I got away from that givit table when I did.
Chapter Fifteen
FLYING AROUND THE DARK SIDE of Xylera is not a pleasant experience. Not because it isn’t beautiful; the glow coming from the atmosphere reflecting the starlight is almost mesmerizing. The problem is that we have no idea if that warship is going to start following us and what we’ll be able to do if it does. They can outgun, outrun, and outlast us any day of the year. The only thing they can’t do is outmaneuver us. The only way to escape a warship determined to muscle us under is to dive down to a planet’s surface and hide. I just wish I knew what the hell we were flying toward right now. I’ve never heard of the DS Arcadia before.