by J. J. Snow
“As you all know, we are way overdue for some downtime. We need to get the ship worked, and apparently I need to hire some additional crew”—she grimaced in Duv’s direction as he toasted at her with his coffee mug—“and now we have a new private who needs training!” At this they all clapped and cheered as Skeeter grinned and put his head down.
“So I could only really think of one planet that would work for all of this, since I don’t feel like making a bunch of stops.”
The crew perked up and waited.
“Duv, I’ll need you to plot us a course for Roen. We can head out right away.”
The crew hooted and clapped. Roen was an old military supply station that over time had been settled by ISU soldiers who had retired or gotten out and were looking for work. It was made up of several small towns surrounded by a dry, arid landscape of red dirt, scrubby trees, and small cactus. The planet was the closest thing to a home that any of them had, and it had been almost three years since their last visit. Travers, the largest town on the planet, had a decent space port and a population of around three thousand. Roen now served as the trade hub for the solar system, so Reilly would be able to find the parts and equipment she needed while Duv scouted for new crew members. Reilly scanned everybody’s handhelds to upload their credits from the day’s sales while the chatter continued for a bit longer and then began to break up as the crew took their leave to begin preparations for the trip. Ty had fallen asleep on the sofa after the meal, so rather than wake him, Chang tossed a military blanket over him and dimmed the lights while he finished cleaning the mess. The ship settled into its evening routine, but there was an air of excitement as the crew thought about their upcoming shore leave.
Reilly walked the ship, looking for any issues and thinking about the upcoming break. She liked the quiet, the familiar sounds of the ship whirring in the background as her boots tapped lightly on the metal walkways and stairs. She glanced down the main hall to see Duv and Skeeter with their heads together, looking over the route on the bridge display, then continued through the common area and down to the cargo bay, past the engine room, and then back up to the main level. She paused to check the wall console and noted the continued steady loss of oxygen. It was minor and they would have plenty to last them the next four days as they made their way to Roen, but in space, even minor problems could become major if you were complacent. The gravity generator was also showing a fractional loss. Reilly made a mental note to have Duv check it out in the morning. She strode down the hall a bit further and opened the door to one of the empty berthing rooms. It was dark, and the lights flickered on, slowly illuminating the area. Four people could comfortably fit, according to the faded military capacity sign on the wall. She snorted. They had fit eight hot bunking on twelve-hour shifts when she was still in the service, and there had been nothing comfortable about it. She glanced around, and for just a moment the ship came to life, people rushing down the hall, alarms sounding, she and the others grabbing their gear and pulling on body armor to head out. She shook her head and it was gone again, just a still, silent room.
Chang walked by and then came back, poking his head into the room. “Everything okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m good. Just reliving the hot bunking days aboard the Dark Angels.”
Chang settled on the opposite bunk with a shudder. “I’d rather not remember them. My bunkmate had a thing against using soap and deodorant. It was not pleasant.”
Reilly laughed. For all the challenges and difficulties and losses, there were just as many good memories, laughs, and friends like family from her time in the military. She never would have become a captain with her own ship without what she had learned there. Even her crew would’ve been different now if she hadn’t been in. She had a lot to be grateful for. She stood up and stretched, then headed for the door.
“So you going back to Roen after three years…I was beginning to wonder if we ever would.”
Chang’s words halted her mid-step. The downside to having crew she served with closely was that they knew each other’s ghosts. And wouldn’t hesitate to drag them out if they were concerned those ghosts might get in the way of the mission or crew safety. Reilly stayed silent.
“You know Ty and Duv will bring it up, too. Especially with everything that is going on. We all must maintain focus, and not everyone down there will be a friend.”
Gunny was right to ask, but it still irked her. She had been through a lot, some worse than Roen. Some, but not much, a little voice said quietly in her mind. That part of her was dead until someone felt the need to revive her memory of him and that day. Then it felt like dying all over again. She wanted to cuss Chang out for bringing it up, but at the same time, she knew if it had been her she would’ve asked too. Reilly bit her tongue, waited a moment more to speak, but still didn’t turn around.
“This is another job like any other. Only reason we haven’t gone back there sooner was because we’ve been on the far side of the galaxy. That’s it, nothing else. The past is the past, no need to go dragging up the dead. We’ve got more than enough on our plate without adding that.” She took another step towards the door.
“We run this ship no differently than when we were operational, we look out for each other, back each other up, and tell each other when or if we think we’re screwing up, because that’s why we’re all still alive. Your words and your rules, Captain.” Chang rubbed his face with his hand. “We respect them, which is why we are all here, and it is why I am asking you now—”
“Gunny, drop it. I appreciate the concern, I do, but I have no issue with going back to Roen. Otherwise we’d be going someplace else for refit. Make sure the others know, too. Don’t want to have this conversation more than once. Got to get back to those ledgers, so see you in the morning.” Reilly walked out and down the hall towards her room, leaving Chang alone in the empty bunk room with his thoughts.
—————
Reilly wasn’t the only one having an evening gone sour. Crazy Ray was irritated. These interruptions had been going on for the last hour. Vishon knew better than to let anyone bother him during his movie time. He toyed with the idea of sending him down to the detainment wing in the morning as a reminder. It would have been acceptable if Vishon had just arranged with him earlier. He truly never minded live target practice, as long as it was in his schedule. The doors to his room were now propped open by bodies. So far, three security team members had had the nerve to disturb his relaxation time, and for what? Some stupid ship demanding to speak with him? Well, they would find out soon enough that they had crossed the wrong person. Crazy Ray sighed. He would have to let the next one live so he could send him back to order the barrage gunners to open fire on his visitors. But then he brightened at the thought of having the man return to clean up the bodies, so he could shoot him when he was done. Vishon could clean up the last one. Comforted by that idea, he was settling back against the pillows on his sofa and preparing to hit play on his most recent torture video when he detected the slow shuffle of someone approaching. He set the remote back down and picked up his blaster again. The door wiggled against the bodies, started to open, then swung closed. Crazy Ray rolled his eyes impatiently. Maybe it would be better to just shoot this one too, he thought, the rage growing within him. The door wobbled, and this time a hand reached around to pull it open, away from the bodies. In the passageway stood Vishon, eyes wide, holding his own throat. Blood gushed through his fingers as he tried to stagger into the room. Crazy Ray jumped to his feet and walked towards the door, head cocked at a sharp angle, not quite believing his eyes. As Vishon started to sway and then slide down the wall to join the others, Crazy Ray grabbed for the piece of paper tacked to his chest. He looked at it, grinned maniacally and then crumpled it up. It landed next to Vishon, who was now gasping like a fish out of water. Crazy Ray looked blankly at his business manager for a moment, then knelt next to him and kissed his forehead.
“Vishon, you did your
best work for me. I am sorry to see you go, and know that I will deal harshly with whomever did this to you.” Crazy Ray stood up and fired a single round into Vishon’s chest as he stepped over the bodies and strode out the door. He couldn’t have anyone seeing him responsible for this act of kindness. They might think he was getting soft. He would send for a cleanup team later, but first he would deal with his rude guest in the most severe manner he could think up.
Blood began to soak through the paper on the floor, blotting out the message. It read, “So can we talk now?”
—————
Duv swung up and into the crawl space. He had a full face mask on with an oxygen bottle and a lightweight exposure suit. Behind him, Skeeter peered in through the hatch, with Ty moodily standing behind him. Reilly had mentioned the oxygen leak and the gravitational loss that morning over coffee. Chang had also mentioned cleaning the cargo bay. Faced with a choice of cleaning up after the cows or risking life and limb to check the space between the interior and exterior hulls, Duv had chosen the latter. Skeeter and Ty quickly volunteered to handle the safety line and pass him any tools he might need. They stood at the back of the mech room in suits with breathing gear at the ready in case the hull breached.
Duv moved forward slowly, shining his light on the walls and checking for stress cracks or other damage. The accessway led to a series of smaller crawlspaces that would open to the exterior hull. His handheld showed the blueprint of the ship in bright green lines and identified areas of stress in the hull on a color gradient. He scanned each access port as he crawled by until he found one that zoomed to a yellow-orange-colored spot.
“Think I found it. Stand by for access hatch opening.”
Ty and Skeeter donned their masks and waited. Duv cracked the door open slowly. He could feel the change in air flow indicating a leak and waited to see if anything blew. After a few uneventful moments, he pushed the door open completely and crawled in. The handheld showed a larger orange spot ten feet further down in addition to the weakened spot he had in front of him.
“Yep. We got a couple leaks and some severely weakened hull points. I need the mini arc welder and some extra plating and welds.”
“Roger. Heading to you.” Skeeter grabbed the items and crawled in, clipping into the safety line while Ty anchored them both. Gravity was at its lowest here, so the normally bulky plating was easy to move along. He handed off the equipment to Duv and headed back to the hatch.
“Tell the Captain that we definitely got hit pretty hard along this side by some serious weaponry.” Duv clicked off his mic and got to work. The patches took several minutes each to set and weld, but in the lower gravity it didn’t take much physical effort. In fact, it seemed to be getting easier as he went along. Duv paused at that thought and glanced over to see the metal plates beginning to lift off of the floor.
“Shit! Ty, check gravity, check gravity!”
Ty and Skeeter both jumped, startled from their conversation by Duv’s call. Ty hit the wall console, swore, and hit his mic.
“We’re at thirty percent. Looks like the main gravitational drive has gone offline, but the backup kicked in…nope, wait…the backup just died, too.”
Ty crossed his arms as he floated to the ceiling, still linked to the safety line. Skeeter, who had never experienced zero gravity, grinned, pushed off from the wall Superman-style, then tumbled off the reverse wall and promptly puked in his mask.
“Great. That’s just great. Here—get yourself right-side up so you can adjust better. No, don’t take it off, the puke will just get loose in the cabin, and we’ll all have to deal with it then.” Ty shoved Skeeter’s hand down to keep him from releasing the mask while turning him right-side up again.
At that moment, Chang came floating by, beating back a cloud of hay and cow manure. He turned and secured the hatches leading to the main deck and bridge to prevent the mess from traveling throughout the ship. The brown cow struggled in the weightless environment behind him, attempting to walk on the ceiling unsuccessfully and giving off several mournful lowing sounds which were echoed by the cow left floating around the cargo bay. Chang grabbed the handholds and came back upside down, then looked in the door.
“This sucks,” he said as he passed, followed by “Sorry kid, forgot you are new to this” as Skeeter threw up again in his mask, disoriented by Chang’s maneuver down the hallway ceiling. “When you get done with Duv, can you help me tie down the cows and set up a small gravity field in the bay?” he hollered.
“Yeah. Sure. Be right there.” Ty slowly helped reel Duv back in and stuffed the tools back in the bag while Duv sealed the access-way hatch. He turned around and saw Skeeter woefully hanging onto the handhold and up to his eyeballs in vomit.
“Whoa! You okay in there? Ty, where’s the med kit?”
Ty floated down the hall and came back with the kit. Duv pulled out a syringe and took off the cap, then jabbed Skeeter with it.
“That will help with the motion sickness, but stay still for now. Sheesh, you could’ve at least showed him where the purge button was!” Duv pushed the button on the front of the mask, and with a loud whoosh, all of the fluid was sucked into a separate receptacle under the tank. Skeeter blinked miserably and continued to hang on for dear life.
Duv followed Ty down to the cargo bay. Cows, hay, unsecured firearms, and other assorted items made up a virtual whirlwind of slow-moving debris. Chang had tethered himself to the floor and was in the process of pulling one of the cows down that he had manage to lasso. Yep, looks like it’s going to be a crappy day, Duv thought as he moved to join Ty in setting up the gravity field gear and swatting cow patties.
—————
Crazy Ray stalked down the halls of his space station. Anyone who saw him went in the opposite direction. His white shirt was now splattered with blood, and he had his head characteristically cocked at a severe angle, which let everyone who knew him know that he was in a killing mood. He held his blaster nonchalantly in his right hand as he moved, blasting at any soul foolish enough to be within visible range. He made his way to the main receiving room, a throne room of sorts, where he received his very best clients and pitched them his wares. There was no doubt that this is where his visitor would be waiting.
He stepped through the broken glass sliders into the room. On the raised dais, in his chair, sat a man with his back to the door. To either side were Crazy Ray’s Enforcers, sitting like large metallic house cats, completely immobilized. Men in combat gear and masks lined the wall, standing at ease with their battle rifles and blasters. Several of Crazy Ray’s security men lay dead on the floor. He ignored them and proceeded to the person in his chair. He placed his blaster against the man’s head. “You have thirty seconds to apologize before you die.”
“Now, now, Mr. Ray. Why so hasty? Besides if you do that, we’ll all just go together.” The man shifted slightly, face still in the shadow of the broken lights, to display a small anti-matter bomb strapped to his chest. “If my heart stops, then this bomb pops! Boom! And wouldn’t that be unfortunate? What a terrible thing, to ruin a beautiful work of art like your space station. I just stopped by for a chat, but nobody seemed to want to get you. So sorry I had to damage your pet, but I was running out of patience and options.” He yawned and waved at the bodies around the room. “As you can see, all of your people here were very loyal, unfortunately for them.”
Crazy Ray was wearing his worst grin, his eyes wild, as he chopped his words. “What–do-you-WANT?” the blaster shook slightly in his hand as he shivered with rage.
The man in the chair sighed. “It’s very simple really. I just need to know the whereabouts of a couple of your sellers.”
“I am a businessman, and that is a matter of honor. I would never reveal my clients or sellers, bad for business and bad for me.”
“But of course you wouldn’t, and your reputation is widely known and respected,” the man continued in a soothing, patronizing tone. “I think
I have a way around that problem, though. I am looking for thieves and…troublemakers, I believe you call them. Do you recognize this man?”
He handed a photo taken from a security video to Crazy Ray, who took it and snarled. “I have a reward out for him. Nobody has seen him in quite a while. Maybe he’s dead, maybe he’s hiding. I’ll get him. I always get them all.” He grinned again, grinding his teeth.
The visitor didn’t respond. “And her?” he asked as he handed back another photo.
Crazy Ray did a double take. This security shot showed a clear image of Joby Ty and Captain Campbell moving up to a building on a TORR. “When was this taken?” he demanded.
“Three days ago. My, you don’t seem happy to hear that at all!” The man gave an evil giggle as Crazy Ray roared his frustration, then turned and shot the nearest two soldiers dead. The others stood calmly in place as if nothing had even happened. “So I am right then? They were here?”
Crazy Ray skulked at the edge of the dais for a moment, thinking. “No. Only the woman. We searched the ship and Ty was not on board, just a boy and two other men. She told me she hadn’t seen…the miscreant…in a long time.”
“Well, it would seem that she lied, then. Which women often do. So two thieves on the run…but are they together or separate?” The man mused to himself for a moment, then refocused on Crazy Ray. “They cannot be allowed to go on unpunished for their crimes against me…and of course against you. So I would like to propose a business arrangement. You may keep the merchandise they stole from me. All I ask for in return is some ledgers that record my personal business ventures and must be kept private for my clients’ sakes, you understand I’m sure. I suggest that we pool our resources to locate them, and then I will gladly kill them both—”
“No! I reserve the right to detainment on them both.”