by Brett Bam
Oscar De Jaager flicked a strand of dark greasy hair out of his face and peered through the HUD of his data glasses at the empty expanse of the dock. The way was clear so he dropped his tog bag on the metal plates of the deck and crawled awkwardly out of the air vent on his hands and knees. He slid behind a stack of empty cargo pallets nearby.
He looked at the ship berthed in front of him.
It didn’t look like much, a simple booster vessel with large bulbous compartments hanging from a central spine. The cargo grapplers on the bow and the dissipater fans on the stern gave it the impression of a giant bloated insect perched on the docking spindle. The hull coating was scorched and pockmarked from radiation exposure, vacuum ablation and particle impacts. The long, sweeping dissipater fans were folded, but Oscar could see the vents were clogged and warped from long use without service which meant a lot of time in space, pushing ice.
According to her corporate log, she was named the White Woman and was registered with the Rommel Corporation, a massive mining and manufacturing company that owned thousands of asteroids, and was a large commercial influence in this sector of the belt. She was a cargo vessel specialising in transporting icebergs, captained by a woman named Jane Politic. Home port was somewhere in the belt. It all seemed very legal and above board, but Oscar, who was a data rat by day and a very good one, stumbled across a couple of inconsistencies which had compelled him to investigate closely.
What he found was very interesting indeed. The ship’s real name was the Ribbontail and her captain, Dalys Xristian, was wanted by the Korporatsie for criminal activity. She and her crew were water pirates and the reward was huge, making her exactly the ship that Oscar so desperately needed.
A small icon on the corner of his data glasses display changed from orange to red and began to flash. The glasses were quite sophisticated and served as a wearable interface with the local net. The HUD projected holographic images into the air, which only he could perceive through the thick tinted lenses. He brushed a finger through hovering hologram to delete it.
“That was quick.” he said with a heavy Martian accent.
Looking around, Oscar saw a tall woman working near the base of the docking spindle. Peering out from his hiding place he glanced quickly around, checking to see if the coast was clear. He took a big breath to steady his shaking nerves and then bent to pick up his tog bag. He slung the load over his shoulder, and hurried over to the ship, hoping he hadn’t been tagged in the dockside security database yet.
Dalys’ comm link blipped in her ear, “Skipper, looks like we got some company.”
She turned and saw a young man, shabbily dressed, hurrying towards her. He had the slight build of someone born and bred in the low gravity of Deimos. His muscles were tiny and flaccid and fat deposits gathered strangely, giving his body bulges in weird places.
“Captain Politic?” he asked, nerves making his voice quaver.
Dalys heard the harsh guttural accent that identified him as Martian and a citizen of the Korporatsie.
She deactivated the wand and slipped it into her pocket then smiled politely, “Who’s asking?” she said.
Oscar looked into cold green eyes flecked with brown and grey. He registered a powerful physique, marble hard and slender. Her skin was a light caramel and her hair was dark and just long enough to cover her ears and get in her eyes. Her smile was cold and formal. She wore a tight black t-shirt smeared with oil, grease and hydraulic fluid. A tool belt was slung around her hips. Long, baggy, brown cargo pants were tucked into calf-high boots with thick, beaded rubber soles. She wore a pair of fingerless leather gloves, and a bulky pair of data glasses was pushed up on her head. He noticed a data storage crystal imbedded in a silver strap on her left wrist. She was beautiful but intimidating, all calm, cool and in control.
“I’m looking for passage off Deimos.” he said.
Dalys shrugged, “This is a cargo ship lad, you want the ferry service to Mobi Station.”
She flipped the data rod back out and turned away.
“Um, Captain, I can’t afford passage on a ferry ship. I was hoping you might hire me as an information officer. I know you don’t have one onboard and I could work my passage. I’m very good at what I do.”
“Well, that’s a mouthful. Straight to the point too, so I’ll do you the same courtesy. I’ve done without an I.F. for the last three years and I can do without one for a little longer. Thank you for your time.”
Oscar smiled. “Captain, I am the best, you need me.”
“That’s a broad boast. Something you shouldn’t do without proof.”
“Oh, I can prove it Captain Xristian. I know all about you and the Ribbontail. I’m at least that good.”
Dalys froze at the mention of her real name. Her eyes flicked across the docks behind the boy, searching for any armed Korporatsie presence. She toggled her comm button, “Jack Mac, tools down, code one.” She saw no sign the boy was being followed or watched but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. Damn, they’d been so close! The last iceberg was waiting for them. She wondered if they had time to get out of the system without a fight.
Jack Mac arrived, a deep frown furrowing his brow. He was a short stocky man, heavily muscled like only someone born deep in a gravity well could be. He had thick black hair on his arms and a receding hairline, older than Dalys by a decade and older than Oscar by at least three. He looked tremendously efficient with calloused hands, grease-stained overalls, bulky data glasses and some highly useful scanning equipment and power tools hanging from a wide leather belt strapped to his waist. The leather was antique and real, a true rarity in a place such as this where no animal had ever walked. His broad unshaven face gave him an air of barbarism that intimidated Oscar immensely.
He looked at Dalys, who raised her eyebrows in question. He shook his head no. “Not locked.”
They had a crew member not on board. Dalys remembered suddenly that Curtis was still out. Their chances of getting away clean had just dropped dramatically.
Dalys grabbed Oscar by the arm and unceremoniously towed him out of sight of the main docking bay. Jack Mac followed closely. She pushed the boy face-first up against crates of supplies. Oscar was helpless to resist.
“Hey, wait…”, he protested, momentarily shocked he could do so little to defy her strength.
“Be still,” she ordered, slapping him on the back of the head to drive home her point. She frisked him quickly and found a lot of little tech toys, but nothing that looked immediately dangerous. Jack Mac kept a calm watch.
“Look Captain, I’m not a threat! I’m on your side!”
“Shut up.” she said, and he did. This was not going the way he had planned. Dalys found his ID card and scanned it, one hand on the scruff of his neck to keep him pinned.
“I’m a technologist, Captain. A good one, ja?”
She turned him around to face her and shoved him back up against the wall with one hand. Oscar winced, more afraid than he was willing to admit to himself.
“How did you find out about us?”
He tried a smirk, cool calm and in control. “A magician never…”
Dalys hit him with an open hand. It was hard enough to knock the data glasses from his head. They slid to a stop on the floor a few steps away, information still scrolling and flashing inside the lenses. His nose was bleeding. He touched the warm flow, looked at the wash of scarlet on his fingers and quailed.
“Wait, um.”
She slapped him again and a drop of blood smeared his cheek.
“How did you find out about us?”
Oscar started thinking quickly. She was a lot scarier in person than she had been online. It suddenly dawned on him that he was talking to an ex-military captain. She was probably more ruthless than…
She hit him again, this time folding her hand into a fist and adding to the pain in his nose with a fast jab he never even saw.
“Don't think! Just talk! How did you find out about us?”
&nbs
p; With one hand clutching at his face and the other wrapped around the steel bar that was her arm crushing him against the wall, Oscar decided to come clean before the next blow broke bone.
“I work for the Korporatsie.”
“Yeah, no shit.” said the big engineer behind Dalys.
“I'm in data capture for the docks. I handle a lot of information about the ships that come through here. You were flagged as a suspicious vessel when you arrived in the system. Two hours ago, your status was upgraded and a warrant issued. You're not under major surveillance yet because you're in the dock performing repairs, but it's just a matter of time before they come and take a closer look.”
Dalys looked at Jack Mac who looked to the left and right, scanning the docks. It was quiet and he shrugged.
“Why should I believe you?”
Oscar was finding it hard to breathe. “Why would I lie?” He gurgled.
“Because you're as dumb as you look.” The big engineer chuckled at this in agreement.
“I wouldn't lie to you, because I want to come with you!”
Jack Mac actually laughed, but Dalys sneered.
“Please? Please take me with you?”
“What are you running away from little boy?”
Oscar grew silent. He was no longer struggling in her grip. He had submitted.
“I hate this place. It's horrible here.”
Dalys flicked a glance at Jack Mac.
“You don't understand what it's like. They control everything. I'll never go anywhere, never do anything. It's all grey people shuffling from one pod to the next. They repress my humanity! I have to go before I die inside and turn into one of them.” He was suddenly passionate. “You wouldn't understand. You're free! You have a spaceship! You can just fly off to the stars whenever you want, go anywhere you want. You probably already have been everywhere. I just want to go with you, please!”
“You're deadweight boy. You'll just slow us down.” said Jack Mac, thrusting his chin towards them. Dalys looked at Oscar with a fiery intensity that made him squirm.
“Captain, we don't need another stray.” said Jack.
Dalys let Oscar go. “If we leave him here, he'll make a noise and they'll come running.”
“Don't leave me!”
“Why should I take you?”
“I'm very good at what I do, I'll be useful!”
Dalys stepped back, “Sorry boy. Stay here now. If you move or call out, I'll kill you.” She said it in an offhand way that convinced Oscar she meant it, and it wouldn't bother her. She turned and walked away, following two paces behind Jack Mac. Oscar watched them go, dumbfounded. This wasn't working out at all! He had to convince them, it was his last chance.
“I'm the Data Rat!” His words stopped Dalys in her tracks, Jack Mac turned, his brow furrowed. “The what?”
Dalys pointed at a nearby hologram advertising a hotel. Across the expensive hologram was a dark stain. After looking at it for a few seconds it sprang into focus. There were words in the blur, a slogan, KORPORATSIE CRUELTY, and behind the text a line of black men in chains. It was a common sight on Deimos; everywhere they had been they had noticed the holographic graffiti. It was a clever mechanism that corrupted the laser array displaying the hologram. It left shadows which became a stain which became a political statement. They all carried the same basic theme. The Korporatsie were the oppressors. Freedom to the people. Down with the Evil Big Brother. It was the graffiti of revolution which had accompanied every stage of human history. All the tags on the slogans credited the Data Rat for their creation. Korporatsie had been offering rewards for any information leading to the capture of this dangerous subversive.
Jack Mac stepped forward and pointed at the hologram. “You expect me to believe that you did that.”
“Prove it.” said Dalys.
Oscar smiled and tapped his watch in a specific way. There was a small flash of light, and in both of their heads-up displays an identical slogan and picture was plastered across their field of vision. Dalys slipped the glasses from her head and checked the display. It was ruined.
“How old are you?”
“I'm 54 next cycle.”
“Terran calendar, idiot.”
“Um, 17.”
“So, you're a teenage runaway, in trouble with the law for vandalism and graffiti, and your ideal solution to avoid punishment is to blackmail a crew of water pirates and wanted fugitives for a berth on a vessel you know nothing about and fly off with them into the abyss?”
Oscar stood a little straighter. A nod brushed his clout into place. “I prefer to think that I am a political recidivist persecuted by a totalitarian regime. I am hunted for expressing my opinion, and I seek to defect to a foreign government with life-saving information.”
Dalys gave him a long look, and Oscar thought how beautiful and terrible she was, a gorgeous predator in plain sight.
“What sort of life-saving information.”
“What I said before, they know about you, and they're coming.”
“What's to stop me from throwing you out the airlock as soon as we’re underway?” interjected Jack Mac. Oscar flushed.
“I hadn't thought that far ahead?” he stammered, and Dalys smiled.
“Aw no, Skipper. I can see what you're thinking.”
She looked at him. “Berea was a stray once, so was Moabi. Curtis too, in her own way.” She nodded her head ever so slightly.
“Yes ma'am.” said Jack Mac, who scooped up the boy and his bag and tumbled him off to the ship. Dalys stood and watched the crowd and the entrances to see if anyone was taking any interest in them.
When they were on the gangway, crossing the narrow bridge to the ship, an alert went off in Oscar’s HUD. He stiffened as he read the message.
“They’re here! They’re coming right now! It’s too late.”
“Goddammit!” Dalys swore. The airlock cycled and Moabi stuck his head out.
“Get him on board, keep an eye on him.” Jack Mac shoved Oscar at the big man, “And watch him, he’s Korporatsie.”
Oscar nearly soiled himself at the sight of the massive black man. Moabi reached a giant hand forward and grabbed the front of his shirt. Oscar heard it tear as he was almost lifted off his feet.
“Are you going to be trouble?” The man’s accent was thick and luxurious to Oscar’s ears, it identified him immediately as a freed slave and Oscar’s heart did a flip. There was a terrible blank disinterest behind his eyes, and the whites of his eyes weren't white, but red and thickly veined. Each iris was a black well which swallowed the light.
Then the airlock cycled and Oscar was swallowed by the ship.
Dalys scanned the docks again, but everything looked clear.
“Jack Mac, fire it up. Let me know when we're two minutes to launch.”
“Aye Skipper.”
“Log a departure record. We need to leave as smoothly and cleanly as possible.”
Curtis Mac Aleer was the ship’s doctor and safety officer. She had gone to buy medical supplies. The crew was under strict instructions to stay in comms range at all times and Curtis was the last person least likely to break that rule, which was why Dalys had let her out.
“I’m going out to find her. Get the ship ready and lock the kid down. I don’t want him roaming around free.”
“Aye skipper.”
Dalys started for the massive entry portals to the docking terminal. It was a long walk across a wide-open space, but she blended in with the crowd. She was two-thirds of the way across when she spotted Curtis heading back, her arms loaded down with supplies. She came in through the terminal doors, her long legs striding quickly and her blonde hair fluttering behind her.
She looked angry and scared. Directly behind her walked two men, and the sight of them sent chills up Dalys’ spine.
They were obviously Korporatsie hardliners, security agents for Deimos. They were particularly dangerous individuals, uniformed in black with knee high boots and square caps. They both
carried PDW tactical machine pistols in holsters on their hips.
She knew them for what they were, bigoted egomaniacs with a collective chip on their shoulders. She knew them by the tell-tale edges of tattoos poking out of the sleeves and collars of their suits, glistening with charges of specially secreted adrenaline and highly focused battle drugs, ready to activate and turn the egomaniac into a total maniac. She knew them by the tight coiled way they moved, like men who had to make an effort to move at the slower speed of the civilians around them. She had met their type before and the sight of them scared her more than she would ever admit to anyone. Of course, they were already here, the damn kid had probably led them to her quicker than otherwise.
She weighed her options. They had obviously cornered Curtis as she was returning to the ship and were going to use her to try and gain entry to the Ribbontail. That was something that Dalys could never allow. As long as the ship was sealed, they would have no hope of getting in without making a big noise and causing some serious damage.
The hardliners were police, but not customs police, this meant a shakedown attempt rather than a full military raid to capture a criminal crew. If there really were only two men then Dalys was ready for this.
She had a formidable weapon at her disposal, a variable magnetic defence field that she wore strapped around her waist like a belt. She dropped her tool belt to the deck exposing the device, and turned a dial in the big silver belt buckle. The field expanded into existence around her with a sharp snap. There was a soft whine that started low and faded into inaudibility as it powered up. The field was made of graphene dust suspended in a magnetic field. It formed dark, smoky patterns in the air around her, which flowed like liquid. Tiny blue sparks flickered here and there like miniature lightning storms in black clouds. A larger spark arced out and grounded itself to the metal deck. Both hardliners hesitated, although neither of them looked surprised. They both zeroed their attention on her immediately; she had just been designated hostile.