by J. J. Snow
Chapter 4
Crazy Ray didn’t like surprises or strangers or any combination thereof. Introductions were necessary before doing business at his hub, and newcomers had to be attended by their sponsors, so if it didn’t work out both could be terminated immediately. As a consequence, Crazy Ray’s network of associates was limited and very security savvy. They had to be, because if they screwed up, Crazy Ray would make certain it never happened again. Reilly used the ship’s midrange comms to link to the hub with a security code that identified who she was. Then she waited. A couple hours later, the holographic HUD blinked to life with one of Crazy Ray’s goons.
“Authenticate,” he said. Reilly was fairly sure that none of them could speak in full sentences, so she simply entered the next code and sent it forward. The goon looked down and then nodded. The screen blinked again, and there was Vishon, Crazy Ray’s floor manager.
“Ahhh! Captain Campbell, so long since we have seen you in this solar system! Nice to see you are alive. You have items to trade then?” Vishon hissed like a teapot when he spoke. He had a high, somewhat whiny voice that was both irritating and creepy at the same time.
“Yep. I have a bunch of items that will need rapid sale and payment. Here is the list.” Reilly punched another button that sent a list of items with quantities along with a couple of photos of some of the technologies they had tested out. Reilly had set aside some extras for her own use and re-crated the rest. Everything was ready to go. Any items not for sale were hidden in her covert holds, away from detectors and prying eyes.
Vishon looked over the list. “Yes, we will have buyers for all of this. Some very good items you are bringing to us. Mr. Ray will be pleased at today’s auction! You arrive I think in four hours? You and one other only, please. Any extras will be disposed of at your cost. Ciao!”
The HUD went dark as the connection ended. Reilly wandered back down to the mess to grab some chow and wake up a bit. They wouldn’t hit the asteroid field for another hour. That bit of flying would be up to Duv. Chang was rumbling about the kitchen in his weird, contented way when she arrived. He tossed some slop over a couple pieces of bread and passed it to Reilly. It smelled great, and her stomach growled appreciatively.
“Hot damn! What is this? This is some really good chow, Gunny!” Chang had his ups and downs when cooking. Reilly was glad this was one of the good days. She took another bite.
Chang smiled. “Chip beef with gravy!”
Reilly slowed her chewing and thought about that, then shrugged and said, “Well, I was going to sell them anyway. It wasn’t that brown one, was it? I kinda liked that one—it had some personality about it.” She took another bite.
“No, it wasn’t brown, it was the black one. It didn’t look too good, so I figured why waste it? The rest of the meat I wrapped up and put in the aft hold.”
Reilly just nodded and kept eating. Duv walked in a few moments later, looking bleary-eyed, and poured himself some coffee as she was finishing up.
“What’s that?” he asked, pointing to her almost-clean plate.
“Breakfast. Chang offed one of the cows and he was delicious. I’ve got to go check on Ty.”
Reilly grabbed the bowl Chang handed her. Duv was already downing the plate of food Chang had placed in front of him as Reilly headed down with Ty’s chow.
Ty, ever paranoid, had refused to take any other room than one that was centrally located to the gunner’s bays, had two doors, had good cover to shoot from, and was equidistant from the bridge and the cargo deck. It was one of the smaller rooms and had a sliding wall with a shared storage space that he had modified for his tac-gear and weapons. For some odd reason none of them understood, he had found a dingy, mint-colored green paint and used it on the walls. A couple posters, some knives and swords, and an interesting multicolored carpet passed for decoration. Reilly banged on the door. Inside she could hear light snoring and a grumble. She knocked harder.
“Dammit! Not so fraggin’ loud! Come in already! Uff!”
Reilly slide the door open to see Ty attempting to get up from his bed. She set the chow down and let him lean on her as he slid back down on the mattress. When he was settled again, she brought him the plate. He started to dig in at once.
“Hold on—not so fast. Take these first.” She handed him two pills that he glanced at then downed. In between mouthfuls, he mumbled, “What were those?”
Reilly leaned against the wall. “They’ll help with the swelling and help you to sleep.”
Ty grunted in acknowledgement and focused on the chow. After a few minutes, he slowed down enough to glance up at Reilly through bruised eyes. “So we’re offloading cargo today?”
Reilly nodded. “Yeah. Crazy Ray’s hub. I need you to stay put in here for the duration.”
“Uh-uh. That freak is way too dangerous for me not to be up and about. I need to be somewhere I can cover you.” He started to get up again, but Reilly jabbed him lightly in the ribs and left him gasping and groaning.
“Not gonna happen today, Sergeant, though I appreciate it. No place other than this room, and Duv is going to scan shield it so hopefully they don’t pick up on the extra heat signature and come looking to see who I have in here.”
Ty nodded sullenly. He hated to be limited by injuries. It left him feeling helpless, which made him worry about everything that could go wrong, which made him feel bad that he couldn’t help out, which made him feel helpless again.
A vicious cycle, and I’m stuck in here, he thought to himself. He could feel the painkillers starting to kick in from the combos he’d downed, along with the sleep aid in the mix. He’d be out pretty soon. He noticed Reilly had gotten up to leave.
“Hey, Captain. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. And watch out for those damn cows.”
Reilly grinned. “Get some rest. I’m going to need you to heal up fast so when we hit the world again I can put you to work. Back soon.”
Ty nodded drowsily, then she was gone. He was still awake enough to hear her lock the door behind him. He smiled. Anyone who thought they could take out Joby Ty could come on down. He pulled one of his blasters over and snapped it into a side holster between his bunk and the wall, where he could reach it easily, and then drifted off again with a wicked little grin on his face. He could always use the target practice.
When Reilly returned to the bridge, Duv was starting his run of the asteroid field. He was belted in, and so was Skeeter, who was watching from one of the seats in the back. From here, he could look out the windows but also look down on the pilot position to see what was happening. Chang was manning the swing gun, a strange contraption which held a cockpit that ran on a circular track around the outside of the bridge area. Swing guns were created for situations like asteroid fields where objects and debris could come at a ship from all directions. The gunner’s cockpit could move on the track completely around the rear of the bridge area on top, to either side, or underneath by using a left-handed stick. Floor pedals allowed for increase or decrease in momentum along the track to engage the objects that posed the most danger or were inbound on the ship’s position. The clear polymer bubble could also turn like a turret when either above or below the wingspan to allow for directed fires forward and aft. The right stick allowed for positioning of the targeting icon on the heads-up display and had three buttons to select weapon type and firing rate. Chang sat comfortably above the others, headset on, waiting. Since the goal was to get in and out while drawing as little attention as possible, he would only fire if Duv instructed him to or if there were an object that was a direct threat to the ship. This meant he probably wouldn’t have to fire at all, and he would get a hell of a ride while he waited. Duv was one of the best space pilots the ISUs had ever had. Running daily flights between locations was something he could do in his sleep or have the computer do for him. But a challenge like navigating an asteroid field while not using guns for a covert infiltration was something he loved. It was almost lik
e a dance as he swung the ship gracefully between, under, over, around, and then performed a corkscrew turn through a triple set of asteroids. Reilly, now belted in, monitored the holo-display of the field as Duv put the spacecraft through its paces. In the distance, she picked up a fake beacon meant to lure in unsuspecting traders so local raiders could trap them and take what they wanted. It was far enough away that it wasn’t a threat. Duv continued to dodge and dive the ship through the field, sometimes seemingly playing chicken with the space rocks and then whooping as he swung clear of them. Skeeter grinned in return like a kid on his first roller coaster. Chang only fired once at a piece of incoming debris that Duv had supposedly missed on the starboard side. Reilly suspected that this might be true, but more than likely, Chang was pushing a few of Duv’s buttons. Perfection in flight was something Duv took very seriously, and it made it easy for the rest of the crew to mess with him on minute details that no regular pilot would worry twice about. She imagined their dinner conversation would be lively later.
All too soon, they were through the asteroid field. The sudden blackness of empty space was almost blinding until they reoriented themselves on the even blacker hulking mass of the space station. It hung in perfect orbit around a moon-sized chunk of rock, hidden in its shadow from the orange light of the nearest star. Reilly received and sent the appropriate codes as they approached.
“Here you go, Duv.” She sent him the proceed code and he uploaded it into the guidance computer, which directed the ship to one of the many docking ports. Then he double checked and uploaded the scan shield for Ty’s room and turned it on.
“Shields in place. They’ll just think it’s a backup generator or reactor interference.” Duv grabbed his coffee mug and took a swig, then kicked back in his chair as Chang swung down into the hold from the tube that led to the swing gun.
“You are starting to slip, not enough practice back there, fly boy!” Chang taunted with a grin.
“That rock was nowhere near my ship! I bet you fell asleep again up there and leaned on the trigger button…don’t make me go up there and check for drool marks!” Duv responded.
“One who would pick the roses must also bear thorns!” Chang laughed and ducked out the hatch as Duv swung at him. “See you in the bay. Captain!”
“He’s right, you know, he’s got a lot of it right in those quotes he’s always throwing out,” Reilly said thoughtfully.
“He’s too smart for his own good, ISU marines aren’t supposed to be that smart.” Duv raised his voice. “Gunny, Sergeants definitely aren’t that smart—damn knuckle-draggin’ ninja!”
They could both hear Chang laughing now down the hall. Reilly turned to look back out the bridge window. Crazy Ray had built an impressive fortress, adding to it a little bit every year until it had arrived at its current configuration. The station was made of a dark gray metal that blended well with the rock it hid behind. Whether that had been planned or coincidence Reilly really couldn’t tell. The central hub had a gravitational ring and a second ring for docking with both internal and external access points, depending on the size of the vessel. Through the middle ran a large spire, fat in the center then tapering to a point at each end, like a top. A small tender vessel guided their ship to an internal docking bay past several heavy laser turrets. No one got in or out without Crazy Ray’s permission, which was good if you were avoiding raiders or the law, but not so good if Crazy Ray was in one of his moods and decided to kill you.
Duv set the gunship down facing the exit, just in case they needed to move out quick. Standing protocol for a visit to Crazy Ray’s was if Reilly’s handset went dead or if Duv had indications that she and her team had been neutralized, he was authorized to max out rear shields and jump away to safety. No one had any illusions about it. Crazy Ray was a sociopath and unpredictable on his best days. They hadn’t had any issues yet, but one never knew what might get him spun enough to kill. Still, he was also one of the best black market auctioneers in the business, and no one else had his connections. So when they had hard-to-sell items, they brought them here, because they knew it would get done right, even if their lives were at risk.
“Here goes nothing. Sit tight while I go make nice with his majesty and get us some credits.” Reilly headed out the hatch.
“Roger that, safe trip, Captain. Oh, and let us know if you need any backup!” Duv said as Reilly poked her head back into the bridge area. “If it looks like His Highness—I mean Mr. Ray—is having a bad day, just drop me a line and I’ll send a few rail gun shots his way!”
Reilly grinned “Sounds good to me—but let’s hope for a quiet visit. I’m tired of tripping over bullets here lately.”
When she arrived in the bay, Chang was directing a team of TORRs off hauling the cargo for auction. Crazy Ray was nothing if not efficient. Within minutes, everything was moved to a pre-designated auction room for inspection and sale. Another man in a green jumpsuit handed Reilly a card with a number on it and pointed them towards a set of doors. She and Chang walked across the docking floor and through the frosted-glass sliders, then down a long, well-lit hallway with several security cameras.
Halfway down the hall was a glassed-in box with framed digital security photos. The third frame over was Reilly’s favorite. In it, the camera had captured Ty cursing out Crazy Ray and then blasting his way out of the auction house to freedom as his ship jumped from the deck into space. He currently retained the dubious status of “Wanted Man #3” with a sizeable reward for his safe return to Crazy Ray’s holding cells. Crazy Ray didn’t like to get his hands dirty so he had several individuals uniquely skilled in the area of interrogations and torture who were more than happy to do this job for him. Rumor had it that they provided him with taped copies for his video library so he could enjoy watching their work from the comfort of his own rooms after a hard day at the auctions.
As they reached their assigned auction room, a class-four Enforcer of the cat variety appeared, patrolling the hallways. It scanned them nonchalantly as it walked by so it could identify and recover or destroy them if they proved to be a problem to its master during their visit. Reilly ignored it and swiped the card across the access pad to the room. As they entered, another door opened on the far side and the TORRs backed in, unloading the crates rapidly and then exiting as the wall fell back into place. Inspectors lifted the merchandise out and examined the contents. Each inspector recorded items and their perspective values on computer pads, along with expected minimum and maximum trade values. When they had finished, the lead inspector handed Reilly an auction contract outlining terms and a guaranteed minimum amount. Reilly pressed her thumb to the pad to signify her agreement and passed it back. If the estimates were right, even the minimum would be more than enough to outfit her gunship with the required replacement parts as well as a few extra nice-to-have items.
Chang was stoic as they waited, standing with his arms casually folded behind his back, while Reilly stalked impatiently back and forth in the side gallery area where they stood. A light came on over the main door.
“Showtime,” Reilly muttered. In walked Crazy Ray, followed by his manager, Vishon. Vishon was in his normal drab grays and greens as he scrambled with his clip board to the control desk to prepare to begin the auction. His mannerisms reminded Reilly of a small dog that lived only to follow its master, even though it was beaten quite regularly. Perhaps he was just too stupid to realize the situation he was in. Or maybe the beatings have affected his brain, Reilly thought to herself as she flashed a cautious smile at Crazy Ray while Chang gave a solemn bow. Crazy Ray gave them both a dazzling smile in return as he promenaded around the central stage area like he was a beauty queen. Today he wore the ugliest orange-and-purple suit imaginable, with a white bone cane capped with ebony and gold and a bright white shirt to match. He strutted for the cameras as Vishon checked the image and then slid it to the holoscreen so Crazy Ray would be visible to the bidders. And of course so he could admire himself as he work
ed.
“Captain Campbell! It has been a dog’s age since we’ve had the pleasure of a visit from you and your friend Wang here!” He gave a slight mocking bow and continued to strut. “I should think after reviewing the auction items today that we’d like to see you more frequently, especially if you can continue to procure such wonderful toys for my buyers.” He turned again towards the goods and then back to Reilly. “Have you thought about my offer? I can raise the price a bit more if it will help.” He grinned, showing very pointy white teeth.
Reilly smiled politely back. “Mr. Ray, thank you very much for your kind offer. I certainly do appreciate it, but I haven’t seen the uh…miscreant…you’ve been looking for in a bit. But I will certainly let you know if I do, as he owes me some credits for damages to my ship.” Which wasn’t entirely an untrue statement.
At this, Crazy Ray smiled even bigger. “Yes, Joby Ty is most certainly a troublemaker. That likely comes from a lack of discipline and a poor mind. He is a troubled soul…best to put those ones out of our misery as soon as they have paid up!” He cackled loudly and turned back to the screen. “Vishon, let’s begin!”
Vishon hit several buttons, bringing up the stage lighting and the cameras on Crazy Ray. There he stood in all his glory, like some diabolical used car salesman. “Welcome! Welcome! My dear buyers, we have some fantastic items for you today! Let’s start small and go big, or should we start big and go small? Forget it! Let’s just mix it up, shall we? Lot one-seventeen is a crate of forty heavy battle rifles, new, never been fired, complete with thermal optics and batteries.” He picked one up and waved it around. “Military grade, people, weather proof, lightweight polymers, and has the new dissipater barrels so no more laser fragmentation issues after firing a hundred or a thousand rounds!” He swung back around to the other wall, where he had a mannequin and a steel armor plate, and proceeded to blast holes in both. “And it has variance, so it can defeat shields operating between several frequencies.” Vishon keyed up a couple of shields to demo this function as Crazy Ray blasted away in a maniacal bliss. “Perfect for your next hit, building security, assassinations, alien hoards, or that pesky ex-lover! Bidding will start at twenty-four thousand credits do I have twenty-four to five?”