Ship Heist

by Barbara Lund

  The schematics were good: I stood inside a space meant to be a bedroom, currently used for storage. “I’m in,” I told Josue.

  Walking through the rooms was like walking through a deserted luxury liner. The carpet alone must have cost a fortune; my feet sank into it so it felt like I walked on foam. All the safety pipes had been hidden behind walls and above dropped ceilings, with discreet holos covering them to give the illusion of a room—a very nice room—planetside. Even the holos on the walls showed pristine beaches and forests.

  Silently I made my way to the common room where I expected everyone to have gathered.

  “The station master is just about hysterical,” Josue said. “Shouting conflicting orders to the security slobs on scene.”

  “Good,” I sub-vocalized and turned the corner.

  Two women spun to face me. They stood about the same height, wore the same sleeveless, translucent white tunic, with long dark hair falling past their shoulders, and bruises running up each arm and leg.

  Yellow and green dying bruises, purple bruises in full bloom, blossoming red marks… Not anything I could deal with right now.

  “Uh, Josue?”

  “Woman on your right,” he told me immediately. “The other is registered as an indentured to Rufin Cove.”

  “Right.” I stunned the one on the left, then looked again at the one on the right. She was shorter than me, with a too-skinny build. I could carry her if I had to, but it would be easier if she cooperated. I had no idea how Important People were trained on this station. Would she come reluctantly or fight? Holding the stunner steady on her chest, I fished my portable ident scanner out of one pocket and held it out to her. “Right hand on the scanner.”

  She crossed the floor with long strides and set her hand on the scanner, not even wincing when it pricked her finger for a drop of blood. She could have been a holo; trust me: paranoia pays. When the scanner chirped and flashed a green light, I slipped it back into my pocket, nodded, and said, “Let’s go.”

  She scowled. “What took you so damned long? I practically gift-wrapped myself for you.”

  * * *

  “Let’s go,” I repeated, grabbing Madelene Cove by the elbow with one hand, and shoving the stunner into her back with the other.

  She started for the front door, but I swung her around toward that back bedroom, hustling her along. “Move, move, move,” I said, shoving her through the hole in the station wall and into the pod.

  Then I stunned her.

  Alert captives can be so much more trouble than they’re worth.

  I slapped a patch on the hole and used the torch to quick-seal it to the station hull, then closed the inner door, disengaged the airlock and fell off the station, weightless and dark for a few terrible moments before I convinced myself to start up the thrusters and weave my way—the long, sneaky way—back to my ship.

  “Josue?” I whispered. “Are we clear?”

  He didn’t answer.

  Now that I thought about it, he’d been awfully quiet since identifying the station master’s wife.

  “Josue?” Louder now, I used the tiny, much-upgraded-but-still-outmoded pod scan to get a picture of the station and the ships attached to it. The Desolate—I mean the Diebstahl—was still docked, engines off, no air leaking. He hadn’t been fired upon… not that something so minor would have stopped him from answering me. “Josue!”

  Settling the pod into its hatch, I manually closed the door to space and opened the door to my ship, slinging the torch over one shoulder and palming the stunner—dialed up high enough to kill.

  Just in case.

  I left the unconscious woman in the pod and locked it down; exterior scans would show no signs of life and no life support, and the search party I expected would not be able to physically eyeball the inside of every pod on my ship. She was safe where she was. I was going to find out what had happened to Josue.

  Locking the door behind me, I crept further into the corridor. The lights were dim, air and gravity were good. What the hell was wrong with my friend?

  The whole damned ship echoed emptily, and I searched every corridor, every bay, and every crawl-space before dragging myself to the pilot’s couch. Tossing the torch down—the stunner long-since pocketed—I eyed the command console. “What the hell, Josue?”

  Still no one answered.

  With a sigh, I jacked into the ship’s computer and started to rummage around.

  I have to admit, I’m no great programmer. I know a little bit about everything having to do with spaceships: piloting, navigation, controls. Hell, even growing the right vat-sludge to keep the air breathable and the food synthesizer stocked. But the complexities of an AI like Josue? Not so much.

  All I could tell was that he was still in there, thrashing. Huge sections of files had been partitioned off and locked. More had been moved and more than that modified. I couldn’t even tell what would help—or hurt!—him. So I backed out. Made some preparations to be boarded. Collapsed on the pilot’s couch. Waited for the call from the station. Chewed on my already nonexistent nails.

  Hours later, a ping brought me out of the depths. The authorities on Balastasia Space Station had finally gotten around to noticing me and were requesting permission to board.

  Rubbing my eyes furiously, I opened the hatch and stood blocking their way into my ship. “Gentlepersons,” I said. “How may I help you?”

  Five security slobs, all in security jumpsuits with basic armor kits and sonic lances slung over their shoulders. They looked me up and down, lingering on my reddened eyes, blue lips, blue nails.

  “There has been an incident on station,” the leader said. “We ask to search your ship.”

  “I know there’s been an incident.” I choked back a sob. “One of the crew came back, but—” I put my hand to my mouth as if I couldn’t bear to say it.

  “Ah.” The security slob looked uncomfortable. “Yes, we regret to inform you that your crew member was lost in a terrorist attack on the station.”

  “You’re…” I looked away, “sure?”

  “Yes, gentleperson. There was… blood… at the site.”

  Wiping my sleeve across my eyes helped to redden them more and I moved to close the hatch. “Thank you for notifying.”

  “Er.” The man held up one hand. “Also, a woman has been kidnapped.”

  “Kidnapped?” Innocent people always go on the offense. “You let my friend die and then you let someone else get kidnapped?”

  He tugged at his collar. “Your pardon, gentleperson, but we need to search your ship for the woman. She is of some… significance.”

  “Just a moment, please.” Turning my back on them, I touched my ear, as if the only way my com worked was to touch it. I whispered an explanation to nobody on the other end of the com line, then paused long enough for a reply. Spinning to face them, I thought of Josue somewhere in the dark fighting who-knew-what—to put a sufficiently frightened expression on my face—and half bowed. “The captain says I may escort you through the ship. But only two of you. We are grieving.”

  “Of course, gentleperson.” He pointed, and three of them stood at attention beside the hatch. The other two crossed the threshold onto my ship.

  Then I led them on a merry chase, twisting and turning through the guts of the Desolate. “Nobody’s been off the ship in hours,” I confided, leading them through the same corridor from the opposite end. “We’ve been waiting to hear about… But you know that, right? Your scans show?”

  “Yes,” he said, rubbing tired eyes, “but we have to check.”

  We stumbled into the mess, where a group of holos snapped their heads up and looked annoyed. I gulped audibly. “Sorry, Captain!” I yelped. “These are the gentlepersons I told you about? They’re looking for the missing woman?”

  Weasel pulled out a knife and trimmed his fingernails. “Not ‘ere, is she?”

  Bait sobbed and covered her face with her hands.

  The captain holo glared and wave
d one hand. “Very well. Finish up and then get back here.”

  “Yessir.” That simple transaction had taken hours for me to program. I needed Josue back. At the edge of tears again, I walked my victims out and around to the bridge, where I paused suddenly. “None of us is the missing girl, are we?”

  The other sec slob snorted.

  “We’re done here, gentle,” the first said. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

  “Of course.” I led them back to the hatch and sealed it behind them with a sigh. Then I retraced our steps, sweeping for anything they might have left behind. Once I was pretty sure the ship was clear, I deactivated the holos and collapsed on my bed.

  “T-T-Tal?” Josue’s voice brought me upright.

  * * *

  “Josue!” I yelped. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. I think so.” He sounded exhausted.

  “What the hell happened?”

  “There was bomb in my programming. Something about the station master’s wife set it off.”

  “But you’re okay now?” I set my hand on the hull. “You’re really okay?”

  “I’m okay. Thanks for trying to help—and not helping. You’re a shitty programmer.”

  “Hey!”

  “Love you, Tal.”

  “Love you too, Josue.” I sat up, checking the chrono in my left eye lens. “Glad you’re back. Our captive should be about ready to wake up. We get anything from Chai yet?”

  “No. I’ll ping him.”

  “I’ll go sedate her again.” Trailing my hand on the walls—thank the cosmos my friend was back!—I made my way to the pod, only to see an angry face in the viewscreen. Like a sucker, I activated the audio link.

  “Let me out of here,” the woman demanded. “I’m not going back. You can’t make me. I can pay for transport to another system. Any other system!”

  “Um.” Rocking back on my heels, I stifled the urge to scratch my prosthetic nose. “What do you mean, exactly?”

  “I know you’re broke. I know you were hired to kidnap me. I know I sent all the guards away just before you came to get me. I know I’m not going back.” She bared her teeth. “You saw the marks on me. That bastard—I’ve worked too hard to get free of him. I’m not going back.” She lifted her chin. “I’ve been transferring credits out-system for years. I can pay you.”

  I closed her connection. Something about what she’d said… “Josue? Recheck our financials. I think Madelene is the kind of programmer I am not.”

  Thirty long seconds dragged by.

  “You’re right,” he said. “She exploited this whole thing as soon as we docked. Stole our money, pushed us in front of Chai… Damn, she’s good.”

  “Better than you?”

  “…No. Not now that I’m looking.”

  After opening the com, I slammed both palms on either side of the viewscreen. “Damn you. You stole our money. I’m going to space you right now!”

  She paled. “You’ll get it back! Give me three minutes to access any com.”

  “You’re more trouble than you’re worth.”

  “I’ll pay you double… triple!” Tears welled up in her eyes, then rolled down her cheeks. “Please,” she whispered, “I can’t… I just can’t…”

  Snatching up the nearest item I could lay my hands on—a wrench—I threw it across the room and listened to the ringing clatter of metal on metal. Then I shut down the connection again and asked Josue, “What do you think?”

  “I— I think you shouldn’t trust what I think,” he said softly. “I let you down, and I’m not back to one hundred percent yet.”

  “You’re my friend. I’m not taking on a sneaky, conniving…” Despite my intentions, my voice softened. “Abused woman who needs to disappear just as much as we do without your input.”

  “Tal,” he whispered. “You’re a fool.”

  “Your fool,” I told him. “What do you think?”

  “We take her,” he said. “She says the wrong thing or does the wrong thing and we space her. We score new idents before we take any more jobs.”

  “Right,” I muttered. “Guest mode. She’s good enough we need to keep her off all your systems. We’ll patch her up, then take her outsystem and let her mess with someone else’s com to get us our money.”

  “Got it,” he answered. “Guess you’re going to have to get used to the blue fingernails for now.”

  I sighed. “We’ll figure something out as soon as we decide where to drop her. Let’s get the hell out of here. I don’t want to be anywhere near Chai’s doomsday device.”

  “Me either… Guess what else, Tal?”

  “What?”

  “With getting our own money back, grief pay for Amazon’s death, and Madelene’s kidnap and transport, we’re rich.”

  I could taste the specialty drinks now. “Just goes to show you can’t judge a station by its manager… or his wife.”

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Barbara decided that raising two kids, “wife-ing”, working as a police officer, maintaining her black sashes in kung fu and tai chi, (oh yes, and eating!) weren’t enough obsessions to keep busy, so she picked up a NANOWRIMO book, and hasn’t stopped writing since. When she placed 2nd in the science fiction/fantasy category of the 2015 Zebulon contest sponsored by Pikes Peak Writers, she decided to do something with the stories in her head, which prompted indie-publishing of three novels and fifteen short stories (so far).

  Platform Eight Series (Short Stories)

  Darkest Space (#1)

  Recovery Space (#2)

  Damaged Space (#3)

  Revenge Space (#4)

  Craving Space (#5)

  Slave Space (#6)

  Shattered Space (#7)

  Relative Space (#8 - Available Soon)

  In-between stories available at barbara.lund.com

  Crowns Peak Series

  Creeper

  Healer

  Ava’s Quest

  Last Mage Standing (Available 2018)

  Doomsday Ship Stories (Short Stories)

  Ship Desolate (#1)

  Ship Heist (#2)

  Space, Lies, Syndicate

  Witch’s Pet (Short Story)

  Blood Descendant (Novella)

  http://www.barbaralund.com