13 Degrees of Separation

by Hechtl, Chris

  She rubbed her brow gently, aware her skin was dry. The air was too dry; there was too little water in it, a problem in this ship. She had to keep it dry; too much humidity affected the electronics. But that wasn't the problem on her mind right now. She licked her chapped lips and then took a sip of water from the tube rigged by her head.

  She had to do something about her mother's gambling habit, it was just too much to support. Mom kept promising she'd stop upon each return to port town she'd found creditors waiting for her in the dock and mom looking all sad and puppy eyed.

  Twice she'd thought she'd made it. Made enough to buy passage out of here, only to find mom had lost it all and she had to pay her mother's debtors off... which of course sucked her dry. Twice. Her mother was apologetic for days afterward. She'd resent it but she knew her mother just couldn't help it. She had to bet on what she thought was a "sure thing."

  It was getting to the point where she was afraid of leaving. But she had to, she had to survive. They didn't make enough in port town to support the both of them! And of course her mother fretted when she was gone, gambling helped ease that apparently, but damn it all! Why did she have to throw good credits down the refresher like that!

  Burning lava like resentment cut through her once more before she sighed, forcing herself to relax and put it aside. No, she'd gotten Felix’s word that he wouldn't take her mother's money, he'd turn her away. She'd even paid him to do it. Hopefully he'd hold up his end.

  He'd better, she thought in disgust as she checked the readings. She had to be careful; the EPS conduits she'd already salvaged were going to make balancing the bitch a pain in the ass. The life support parts strapped to her undercarriage were great but the conduits were where the credits really were. Life support parts could be made or remade given the right materials and time. Conduits couldn't.

  Whoever had named her battered elderly tug the Tin Plated Bitch had one hell of a sense of humor she thought wryly, twisting her lips as she studied the read outs. Seven hundred plus years old and still going strong, she thought, stroking the taped arm rest.

  A few minutes later she arrived at the next find. A jumble of wreckage a meter long tumbled in space, wiring snaking out and jiggling like Medusa's tentacles. No, not worth it. One really good scare with one of those cables was enough for a life time.

  She didn't need to get trapped again. Next time she may not be so lucky. She stared at the screen and then tapped at another piece further off. She shivered a little but kept it under control. There was no need to get all freaky, it had been a brief scare and she'd gotten through it relatively unscathed. She hated the suit but it sure was a life saver she thought, rubbing the faded orange left bicep armor.

  She was still in her hard suit, though she hated the thing, but getting in and out of it was too much of a pain in the closed confines of the tug's claustrophobic cabin. Her helmet and gloves were racked nearby. She looked up to the controls and flipped a switch. When the red light on the pump stayed lit she swore and tapped at it a few times until it went out. She watched it suspiciously for several minutes, making sure the fuel was moving from one tank to the other as she'd intended. She needed to keep the bitch's balance just right or she'd fly off course when she did her main burn.

  She'd also worn the suit just in case she'd have to pump the cabin down and run on her suit to get to port. She'd had to do that twice and it had been a terrifying experience. One she vehemently didn't want to repeat. Not now or ever again.

  From the look of things she'd be okay. If she could find at least one more tidbit and bring it home.

  Uncle Edgar had told her how a ship normally died. She'd carefully listened and even took notes when he'd explained it. When a ship died it died in one of three ways. The first, it was chewed up but her reactors scrammed before they blew and she was a derelict in space, adrift and salvageable.

  The second, she broke in half, or in several pieces, each tumbling off into space. That hadn't happened here either. The third, the reactors were hit, or a nuke got past the armor and tore her up from the inside out.

  Most of her innards were toast, free floating atoms and bits that had pushed other bits out during the rather exciting explosion. The armor had briefly contained some of the damage, but it was designed to protect stuff from coming in, not out.

  Sometimes bits spewed from ports, hatches, and other places before they were chewed up by the nuclear fireball and consumed. Sometimes this wreckage was pushed out, past the dead ship and into space. And in a one and a million shot, some of that wreckage bore fruit.

  Like this one, she thought, smiling as she expertly picked her way through the floating bits of rubbish to another find. It was a piece of a shuttle bay she recognized, maybe... she used a waldo to catch it and then turn it to inspect. She reared back; a body was melted into it. She bit her lip and let it go, letting it drift once more.

  "May you rest until the spirits bring back our dead," she said softly, turning once more.

  She wasn't like Digs or Halfcock, she didn't bring in things like that. Not to the recyclers who broke them down to use in the food. No, they'd suffered enough.

  She turned, looking onward and sighed.

  After a long moment she glanced at the clock. She had another... hour and ten minutes before her window to return home closed. Just enough time... she scanned the area once more. She picked out the nearest return and hit the retro's to investigate it.

  She was glad she did a half hour later. Strapped to her remaining flank was the bow of a military shuttle. She grinned at the find. Sure it was milspec, she wasn't sure if the electronics were salvageable, probably not, they might blow. But the rest of it was great.

  And even if it wasn't useable she could always sell it to the recyclers who'd melt it down for scrap. She'd found the right bit to make a tidy little of profit out of this venture after all.

  She cracked her knuckles and set course for home, complacent.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  As she passed a rock something latched onto her. Her little tug pitched over, spinning. Klaxons wailed. She was shocked to see another waldo in front of her cockpit glass, tearing at her little tug. "What the hell?" she demanded, trying to regain control. This was way beyond a prank. This was a serious assault!

  "Didn't anyone teach you to share bitch?" Digs growled, cutting at her lashings.

  "Why you bastard! I never thought you'd turn jack!" she snarled, trying to fight Digs off. He caught her one freed waldo and held it. They drifted closer. She could see him in his cockpit. He smiled his greasy smile and touched the boom mike in front of his mouth.

  "Now now, don't be rude. There is more than enough here for the both of us."

  "Bullshit! You know I found it fair and square! Go get your own!" she snarled, struggling.

  He tss tss'd her mockingly and kept the tug pinned. "Stalemate. And from the looks of it, you've used up a lot of your juice finding all those nice bits."

  She glared, red eyes flashing dangerously. "You pirate!"

  "Now no need to be rude!" he mocked, grinning. He licked his lips. This was going to be fun he thought. He was tempted to draw it out, tempted to make her suffer a bit. But he reminded himself that if he did it made it more dangerous, yes the danger was fun, but the possible exposure wasn't. If one of her radio signals got to the wrong person he'd be in trouble.

  "So now what? You think you can get me to just let you rob me?" the girl snarled. "Just like that?" She felt a sinking heart. There was no way he could afford to let her live. Was he even going to bother with trying to bribe her? No certainly not. The old saw about dead men telling no tales ran through her mind. It equally applied to women she realized. A woman like her, she thought frantically, trying to think of what she could do to turn the odds in her favor.

  "Oh, I know it won't go down like that. Pity, you are a looker. But well..." Digger smiled nastily as he moved his controls. A third arm moved up, a dick arm they called it. Her eyes narrowed in disgust for a
brief moment as she puzzled at what he was up to. When she saw the glint of the broken drill bit on the tip her eyes widened in fright.

  "Digs!" her shocked high pitch voice screamed over the radio.

  "Yes it's a bit worn and clichéd, but it'll do the job," he said, moving the drill bit into position. “A little stuck up chit like you should be honored,” he said with a nasty grin in his voice. She'd been a late bloomer, flat chested until all of a month or so ago. She was still short like her mother. Sort of a blue fuzzed younger version of the gambling prostitute. His brother Edgar had been taken with her for some reason, taking care of her when her mother was turning tricks or getting herself indebted to someone or other.

  The girl hastily put her gloves and helmet on. Her teeth tore at the seal binding her left glove to her arm gauntlet. Why of all times did it have to choose now to be stubborn? She felt a rush as the light on her arm turned green. She reached up and slapped down her visor and closed off her life support. She emptied the cabin as the bit began to spin, feeling the fan in her suit spin up to get rid of the sweat and excess heat she'd generated in her haste. She slapped at her harness release and then climbed out of the chair as the bit broke through her cockpit window and the remaining air rushed out.

  Had she been in anything other than her venerated and much cursed upon orange hard suit she would have had the bends, crushed by the sudden vacuum. Instead she'd been thrown about the cabin before she'd gotten to the hatch and plasma cutter she'd stowed there.

  "Two can play at that game", she muttered darkly, while reaching for the tools.

  Digs hadn't gotten a good view of her supposed demise; the cock arm had obscured his view. When he noted the breaching gases he gave it a minute, popping a bulb of homemade white lightening in celebration. He smiled a gape toothed grin. His gamble had paid off. Instead of trying to follow the little bitch, he'd let her do all the work for him. He couldn't wait for the pay off when he got back to port.

  It wasn't nice, he knew, but he just didn't care. They needed all the people they had, but Senka was a kill or be killed kind of place these days. Besides the stuck up bitch deserved it, thinking she was all that. She'd spurned his advances each time she'd been in port even when he'd loaned her effing mother money. Stupid. Her mother wasn't that good a lay either! He'd had her plenty of times and she'd only gotten worse over the years. The last time she'd just laid there like a dead thing. He'd had more fun out of his rosy palm and a gig of porn.

  When he was sure her cabin was purged he pulled the bit out and moved the arm. No sense destroying the tug, after all, it too was salvageable. He'd make a mint off that, far more than the bits the girl had found. There were the right people out there who were desperate enough not to ask too many questions. He didn't even have to make it look like a meteorite strike this time either!

  The arm jerked, hung up. He swore, pounding on the controls and then jigging it. “Come on baby,” he muttered. “I promise an overhaul when we're done...” he vowed, knowing he'd forget it in port. He knew it; he knew the first place he'd go once his cargo was settled was the bar.

  The arm moved once more just as he took a second sip and he sputtered at the empty sight of the cockpit. He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand and then used a rag to clean up the mess. Damn it! Where the hell did she go? “Why do you have to make this so difficult? Just die already!" he snarled.

  "You first," came over the radio just as something cut into his hull. He looked up when he felt sudden heat above and then screamed as plasma boiled there. The plasma of course was sucked out by the vacuum as his cabin breached.

  The girl had been smart, she'd cut along the seam to the window where it could not only be repaired, but where it was weakest. She grinned savagely as she watched the air and bits stream out of the cabin. When a finger stuck through the hole she snickered and cut it off and then cut a few more holes for good measure.

  He started to babble and scream into the radio. She ignored it, smiling savagely as she went about her grim work. She could hear him pant, try to breath, try to stay alive as the heat and air boiled out of his cabin. The bastard deserved it she thought.

  Digs unlike her wasn't in a suit, and with his finger stuck in a hole he wasn't about to get into one. For good measure she went over to the lock and unlocked it. It swung open and his lifeless body drifted into the opening.

  She stared into his boiling eyes and gaping mouth, watching the water vapor crystallize around him for a long moment. “Good bye... Dad.” She wanted to kick him. Instead she reached down and hauled his carcass up and out of the cabin and into the darkness of the void.

  She hesitated. After a moment she lashed it to the ship's hull. "Waste not after all," she murmured. She was sure she could find recyclers in Port town eager for more biomass. Digs was just the right pile of shit to hand off to them with her compliments.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  A few hours later she'd patched the window with the bit from Dig's drill. It wasn't pretty but it'd hold until she got to port. Just to be sure she'd planned on spending the trip in her suit, leaving the cabin decompressed. It would be an itchy five day trip but she could manage it. She'd treat herself to a two minute shower when she got home. No, make it a four minute shower. It'd cost a lot but she could afford it now. She'd vampired his tug to be sure, though it wasn't like he needed it anymore. Just to be on the safe side she'd marked the wreck for later retrieval. After all, it was now salvage. Salvage she would need if mom had gotten around Felix somehow. She better not have though, Mairi thought with a growl.

  Whistling a jaunty tune she headed for port with uplifted spirits.

  The end... for now.

  A Matter of Breeding

  Note: this story takes place during the first 10 chapters of Jethro, First to Fight.

  An explosion of light and dust heralded a ship's sudden arrival. Its' arrival startled the frigate Wendigo on picket duty at the B101 Alpha jump point less than a million kilometers from the arriving ship. Fortunately for the newcomer Wendigo's sensor officer was on the ball, he classed the ship as a civilian ship and the frigate stood down the defenses before the mines clustered around the warp point tore the ship apart. A standard hail went out to get the ship's attention. When they didn't respond Wendigo went back to alert.

  The civilian crew didn't know how lucky they were, another ten-seconds and they would have been torn apart before their systems could have fully recovered. First Lieutenant Aisyah binti Tam, Neo orangutan Captain of the Wendigo took the horn. “Do you people realize another half second delay and you would have been torn apart? When you get an identity query from a Navy picket ship you damn well better answer smartly or it'll be on your head!” she snarled.

  “Sorry, sorry,” the voice said over the communication channel. “We didn't expect anyone on the other side of the jump point. Please don't shoot!”

  He had a point, up until three years ago no one guarded the four Pyraxian jump points. The attack by Horathian pirates had changed all that. But still, when a ship hailed you, you better respond, especially if that ship is a warship. Even if she's a frigate, Tam thought darkly before responding. She felt her ruffled fur slowly relax.

  “Right, so you're new to the system. State your purpose for being here and where you came from,” the simian Captain demanded, voice cooling from the practical shriek she'd been fighting. She felt her fur slowly dropping to normal. That had been entirely too close. Perhaps having an orbital fort on hand to be in charge instead of her would be better. Having life and death decisions thrust on her with little time to think them over was one thing, but she'd much prefer someone else have to deal with the consequences if some idiot civilian didn't respond and was blown out of space.

  “Sorry, as I said, we didn't expect you here. Um...”

  “State your purpose for being here, where you are coming from, and where you are going,” the Captain said patiently.

  “Oh, oh right, yes, sorry. We're the Old Nelly out of um, Fi
nagle I guess you could say. We've been traveling a long way and we'd like to drop off our cargo of people and move on if it's okay with you.”

  “Old Nelly?” the Captain asked and then chuffed in amusement.

  “Yes, we're um...”

  “A freighter. Or in your case a liner?”

  “We're certainly feeling that way at the moment,” the still unnamed voice replied with a sparkle of exasperation in his tone of voice. “We're overloaded with passengers and our life support and fuel are... iffy I guess you could say.”

  “Do you need resupply?” the Captain asked. “And who am I talking to?” she asked.

  “Sorry,” the other voice said. She winced at the slight squeal in the radio channel. She waved a long hand to the communications and sensor rating manning his post to filter it. He nodded silently. “No, we're good till Anvil the Captain said. Um... Sorry, this is Dwayne Webe of The Nelly. I'm, well, I guess you could say I'm second in command?” he asked, voice rising in inquiry as he turned away from the microphone.

  “Try third,” a new voice said dryly. “Soon to be fourth if you don't get on with it Dweeb,” the voice concluded.

  “Aye Captain,” Dwayne replied, sounding hunched over. “Nelly is out of Finagle as I said, we're passing through to um, Gaston? Is that right?” After a moment he grunted. “Yes, we're headed to Gaston, and then from there I don't know. But we're coming here to well...”

  “Drop your passengers off,” Captain Tam replied dryly.

  “Oh you know about them already?” the man said, sounding dismayed.

  “You just told me. This is Captain Tam of the Wendigo. Welcome to Pyrax.”

  “If you don't mind my asking, what are you um...”

  “We're Navy. Long story short? We're here to kill pirates.”

  “Oh. Um, cool.”

  “I'm sending you a data packet now. You are entitled to a free health and welfare check at the Navy annex.”