Solstice 31: The Solstice 31 Saga, Books 1,2,3

by Martin Wilsey

  She didn’t take the knife.

  “You may lower your arms and finish it,” Dalton said.

  Her arms fell, she swayed. He offered the knife again.

  She plunged it into her own heart and held it above her head like the rest of the company. Every knife was red in the setting sun.

  Dalton watched as she managed to stay on her feet for another full minute before she fell backward like a tree.

  “I want her gutted, skinned and in the stewpots before dinner. Move out!” Dalton yelled.

  In an almost ritual fashion, they passed her flight suit around, and each of them cleaned their knives on it as they listed her above their heads and jogged in tight formation back to the barracks.

  “They really will do anything you tell them to do?” Kendall.

  “Only if you never let them see the world.”

  ***

  “Max, just get me a pressure suit and a grav-pack. I don’t need a shuttle for spits sake. I can see the damn thing from here.”

  “Dude, it’s like three K out. Those things are big.” Max was trying to keep up with Sawyer. Some dumbass might splat you on their wind-shield.

  “Just warn them I will be over in fifteen minutes. Now Max.” Dan knew how bad Max needed his cut of this docking fee. “And I want a piece of your end.”

  “Sawyer, you’re killin me.” Dan just pointed, “Ok, Ok, I’m going you crazy fuck.”

  Sawyer was into the pressure suite and pack with ease. When the airlock opened to space, he stepped out and just floated for a moment.

  He took a deep breath in through his nose and out his mouth relaxing. He smiled wide, looked around and activated the grav-pack, sending him in the direction of the Oarcart-91.

  “Max, here is the freq for the miner. It’s official designation is the TUNA-MELT. I ain’t shittin ya.” Max was laughing.

  Sawyer cut him as he rounded to nose of the massive ship. It was like a long board on edge with both sides covered with old rusty shipping containers. Four giant engine bells aft and the bridge in it’s nose.

  Faded letters were painted on the side of the nose TUNA-MELT.

  The airlock strobes were flashing in the top portion of the letter A, and the outer door was already open. He was inside and pressurized fast.

  The inside surprised him.

  It was well lit and looked well cared for. The “Kid’ turned out to actually be a kid. It was Zero-G in this section. Sawyer took off his helmet first and placed it on a rack while saying, “Hi, I’m Dan Sawyer the Dock-Jock.” By then he had the top of his suit off over his head.

  He shook the kids hand.

  “I’m Keith, the chicken shit pilot.” He smiled.

  “You may be the smartest pilot I have ever met, son.” He slid out of his suit lower.

  “You can leave your pressure suit on if you want. The manual says you should.” Keith said. They went up three levels and then in deeper.

  “I never do,” Dan said floating down the hall after him.

  “Oh?”

  “Not since the war.”

  The ship looked well maintained on the inside all the way to the bridge.

  “Careful. We got grav-plates on the bridge. Painted over the signs long ago though.” Keith said going in first through the hatch that was held open with a rope.

  “Dan, this is my Pops, Morris Bagley. This is Dan Sawyer our Dock Jock.” Keith cheerfully. The bridge was huge. Like the old freighters. Real windows, his favorite. Good visibility all the way down to the huge dock collar.

  “Greetings, guy. Sorry had to yank you outta bed. I’m just too old to do a proper job and Keith just ainna never done it before. Both are getting fixed up with longevity and stuff this trip.”

  “How’d you know I was in bed?” Sawyer asked thinking of punching Max.

  “Was talking to Station. Told me.” Morris said as he got out of the copilot seat for Keith and offered the pilot seat for Dan.

  “Why were you talking directly to station?” Sawyer strapped in and started testing the thrusters.

  “Well, It’s kind of embarrassing.” He laughed and said, “Want coffee? Oh shit, forgot. You need both hands.”

  Sawyer started moving in toward the station. “Station, this is the Tuna-Melt we are proceeding to smelting spire 36, dock 5.”

  “Like I said, I had to report to security a Harvester in the belts. Just sitting there. Oddest thing I ever seen. Didn’t respond to hail. Made note, moved on.” Morris said like he used the phrase a lot.

  “Harvesters are prison ships. The manual says to never doc or stop for a Harvester. Cause you know, prisoners.” Keith said.

  The spire approached quickly, but their alignment was perfect. The seal was tight the first time.

  “I love these old ships,” Sawyer said as he shut down and unstrapped.

  “Well, Tuna-Melts days are about over. Maybe some in system short hop freight but she’s wearing a little thin.”

  Station added a bonus to Sawyers paycheck.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX:

  M-City

  “Admiral Kreiger lived in Mexico city. All the evidence against Barcus seemed to point to the fact that Kreiger was the target. We didn’t know he survived Mexico City until 32 years later.”

  --Solstice 31 Incident Investigation Testimony Transcript: General Patricia Chase, senior member of the Earth Defense Coalition.

  <<<>>>

  “On Thursdays Krieger always goes and works out at boxing gym off base. He goes as a civilian.” Zimmerman said, “Then he always goes for sushi at a hole in the wall called Itto.”

  “Sushi?” Shaw asked incredulous, “In Mexico City? Does he have some kind of death wish.”

  “Don’t judge, missy.” Zimmerman clipped, “When was the last time you were even on Earth?”

  “What does that have to do…” Shaw began.

  “Enough!” Barcus barked not looking away from the complex tactical screen Stu had presented him.

  Kuss pointed as she stood behind his seat, “There. Polar entry vector. Move South, West of Rockies here. All open skies no traffic monitoring from Catapult ports.”

  Stu added a simple, “Acknowledged.”

  Barcus rotated the seat around before speaking. “We will be coming in low and slow and boring.” He stood as the tactical dome shifted to a map, “We will be touching down in an four hours at a salvage yard in the Oklahoma desert. We will meet Hagan there in the drop ship from the Memphis as it goes to Port Sri Lanka.” He turned and indicated the hold. “You will take two of the Warmarks, leaving us three of the in case all this goes sideways somehow.”

  “I recommend we make contingency plans. Places to regroup. Low key communications channels in case we need them.” Zimmerman said professionally now.

  They spent a few minutes establishing rendezvous points on Earth, Freedom Station and Luna. Stu told them about a Texas restaurant called the Stew Pot, that had a little used comments section on their obsolete web site that was open and unmoderated. Easy to remember.

  “We will arrive at Oklahoma Salvage around midnight.” Barcus said, “Hagan knows the owner. It’s about ten square kilometers of air and space ship graveyard.”

  “That fits the cover as well.” Zimmerman said, “I’ve heard of the place. It’s been there for like hundreds of years.” He chuckled. “On a clear day, you can see it from Freedom Station.”

  All three seemed to look at Po at the same time. She was asleep in the copilots seat. The five point harness held her up.

  “She has the right idea. Tomorrow is going to be a long day.” Zimmerman said as he sat in the last row, reclining instead of strapping in.

  Barcus thought to himself, Tomorrow is the Solstice, the longest day of the year. The longest day in human history and he could do nothing to stop it.

  ***

  Cook approached Earth controlled space on manual. No one blinked regarding their Ident codes. He remained on the approach they gave him and as expected it took them directly o
ver the Western region of North America.

  The drop ship fell away silently with all their weapons and Ben’s AI module as well. As soon as it was detached it disappeared from the tactical, even though they were doing active proximity scans.

  “Ok, what the hell time is it in Sri Lanka?” Muir asked, “I have been on space standard time for so long my body is going to flip out.”

  “We get there when we get there.” Karen laughed then, “Hey, it’s going to be Christmas soon!”

  “Karen, are you one of those people still awaiting his return?” Cook laughed.

  “Hey, it could happen!” She was serious, “If he left Earth and traveled long enough at relativistic speed, he could still return.” Muir and cook both began to laugh. “You know there are prisoners on the Harvester ships whose sentences will keep them in for over 2000 years!”

  “It could happen.” Cook Smirked.

  “It’s possible,” Muir said.

  “Bite me,” Beary answered.

  “Wait, doesn’t Christmas mean you will buy us presents? We have cash, and there is excellent shopping in Sri Lanka!”

  ***

  Jimbo left the bedroom where Bobbie and the girls slept. He had written a note and left it on the bedside stand. Once the door had silently closed, he turned to find both Rand and Hume standing by the main door.

  “Barcus told me that the Chancellor has hidden a nuke on Freedom Station,” Rand said coolly.

  “He told me the same,” Jimbo said as he noted the time in his HUD. “He also said that Station will help us.”

  “Let’s find out,” Hume said as she initiated HUD comms.

  Rand and Worthington sensed her come back online.

  “Welcome, Lieutenant Valerie Hume.” Station said politely in her head, “Thank you for trusting me. I have been expecting you.”

  “You have?” Hume said.

  “Yes, my dear friend Barcus told me to expect you and help you any way I can. I have already removed all of you from the security notification watch lists. Please let me know if I can help you in any way.”

  “Station, I will be honest. We have reliable report that there is a nuclear bomb hidden on his station. Is it possible for you to run an internal scan?” Hume said as she gave Jimbo and Rand a thumbs up.

  They left the apartment as their HUDs initialized.

  “I have already begun the internal scans. Areas without internal sensors will take longer because my scan drones will need to get to them all.”

  “Barcus mentioned smuggling.” Jimbo said, “And Pho Pete…”

  The Anchor icon appeared in all their HUDs. The word “Station” appeared next to it. They now had full time access to the Station AI.

  “What’s the quickest way to Pho Pete’s?” Jimbo asked, and a mist rope appeared in their HUDS showing the way.

  They jogged in the easy one G.

  ***

  They could see the giant salvage yard in the moonlight from high altitude.

  “Beautiful,” Kuss said.

  “You would consider a fucking graveyard beautiful,” Zimmerman said to her, his voice waking Po.

  “Sleeping technology in moonlight, awaiting resurrection. What could be more beautiful, baran?”

  “Who’re you calling stupid, suka. Nie lekcewaz mnie.” Zimmerman said.

  “Mówisz po polsku? Może cię do łóżka później, jeśli cię nie zabije pierwszy.” Kuss replied.

  “Oklahoma Salvage to shuttle transport unit Latha. Kinda late to be stopping by don’t you think.” The voice was a cool male voice with a slight Texas accent.

  “Is this Hunter? Wes said to touch base with you.” Barcus said, not identifying himself.

  “Yes, sir. Set down on the western most edge. That section looks like a big J from the air. Right in the hook of the J. It’s cold tonight. We open up about 7 am if you need anything.”

  “Thank you, sir. Goodnight.” Barcus answered.

  “Welcome. Hunter, out.” The channel closed.

  “That was an AI. I know it was. I’m not sure anyone human is down there.” Po said.

  Barcus glanced at her.

  “Doesn’t matter either way. Look.” Zimmerman said, pointing at the massive J made up by several derelict ships.

  The drop ship was already there.

  ***

  Hagan and Shaw were standing on the cargo ramp of the drop ship lit, but a red light from behind that didn’t impact their night vision but allowed them to see. As the STU’s ramp lowered from under it’s chin, Zimmerman caught sight of patrolling Warmarks.

  As the ramp touched two Warmarks came to life in Stu’s hold and descended to take up security posts as well.

  Zimmerman walked up to Hagan and before introductions asked, “You have an Echo in there?”

  “Hello, Jack,” Echo said as her avatar appeared from behind Hagan.

  “I’ll be a son of whore. No one’s deleted you yet?” Jack was smiling ear to ear.

  “They keep trying, but they keep missing,” Echo said smiling shyly.

  “Barcus we might survive this shit storm after all.” He was starting to laugh, “This is the meanest little bitch in the known universe. There ain’t enough space in a human for all the mean contained in this little shit storm. I’ve seen her rip heads off just to get a crowds attention.”

  “You’ve met?” Hagan asked at the same time Shaw said the same words.

  “Jack here was once one of my Black Badgers,” Echo said. “Never could get this one killed. Too smart for that.”

  “She’s hateful because she was always surrounded by fine man flesh and couldn’t fuck any of us.” Zimmerman laughed.

  “Jack.” Echo became serious, “Ferris and all the Black Badgers on the team died on the Memphis. Died strapped into their briefing room seats. Goddam vacuum.”

  None of them had never heard emotion from an AI like this.

  ***

  The tactical display on the Memphis had labeled itself the Winton thankfully. The new Ident code allowed them to make a slow grav-foil approach and descent to the private hanger rental area where Karen had made arrangements a few hours earlier. Hangar T94-118 already had the doors open and lights on. The landing pad strobes were flashing, and it was well marked.

  “I have never seen so much traffic before. Anywhere.” Cook said out loud.

  A skinny kid with a clipboard and a handheld scanner waited. They slid the Memphis in nose first like an armature would. Once it was down the aft, primary cargo ramp began to lower.

  Facing outward, the cargo hold was wide open to an spying eyes showing it was empty, stripped and still a bit damaged.

  Cook looked bored as he approached to customs agent, handing over a credit chip for the fees.

  “All the doors are open now if you want to run the inspection.” Cook knew customs agents loved experienced pilots.

  “Thanks, man. I am headed home after this.” The agent casually kicked open a well-used case at his feet and a half dozen scanner drones drifted out and into the Memphis. “Won’t take long. No cargo containers, no big water tanks?”

  “Water tanks?” Cook asked biting into a protein bar.

  “Yeah. Stupid new regs. No water importing.” He said, “Who gives a fuck.”

  “Someone must,” Cook said.

  Karen Beary and Peter Muir walked up to them and offered their passports. Muir asked, “Know any place close where we can get a burger or pizza and a couple beers.”

  “The T94 ops terminal sucks. I’d go to Delio’s. Great pizza, sandwich’s and no soy. I don’t think there is a vegan thing on the menu. They deliver too.”

  They watched the drones return one behind the other and when the last one returned, the kid kicked the lid closed.

  He held out his hand with the hangar door remote. Cook replaced it with a gold coin from Baytirus.

  He smiled big and waved as he began walking away. The case deployed legs and followed him.

  Everyone loved off books money.


  They looked around the hangar and quickly found the office and bathrooms. None of them could activate their HUDs because the Ident within would give them away. They had to assume they were on a watch list.

  “Now we wait. Who wants pizza?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN:

  Push Gently

  “We had Intel that there was a nuke hidden on the station and that Dalton was prepared to use it and lay blame elsewhere. It would have worked except he never realized who he was up against: Barcus.”

  --Solstice 31 Incident Investigation Testimony Transcript: General Patricia Chase, senior member of the Earth Defense Coalition.

  <<<>>>

  It was just after midnight when Jimbo, Rand, and Hume got to Pho Pete’s soup bar on the promenade level. Pete was still there behind the counter serving people. They took the last three stools all the way on the right end and waited.

  Pete had just put on a fresh white apron when he approached them. Looking up he froze for a moment. But it was just a moment. His eyes scanned the balconies across the way as he spoke.

  “I have just the thing for you. You’ll love it.” He was already setting out three large white porcelain bowls as he spoke in lower tones. “Look; I have already stuck my neck out far enough. Now, what?”

  Jimbo was distracted by the Pho he was assembling for them. Broth with noodles, meatballs, onions and sprouts as well as other things. It smell amazing, and he realized he was starving.

  Rand and Hume didn’t wait. With chopsticks and ceramic spoon they dug in as Jimbo talked to Pete.

  “Look can we talk somewhere more private?” Jimbo sip a spoon of broth. That was incredible.

  “What about?” Pete had his arms crossed over his chest. With practiced ease, two Asian women picked up the slack with other customers as he chatted.

  “If someone needed to get something onto the station, quietly, with no inspections, how would that happen. Something bad.” Jimbo said and then blew on another spoon of the amazing broth. It was very hot.