13 Degrees of Separation

by Hechtl, Chris

  “My body type doesn't fit on a bunk ma'am,” the Gashg replied. She looked at him. He was young, she hadn't met many of his species but could tell because his skin was unblemished. His species used scars to attract mates. She wondered why he was doing this, leaving his family, his clan.

  “Mr. Fenly said to give you this,” One of the young men said, holding up a chip. “It's orders from Irons and a pass code. With it you'll get paid when you, I mean we, get to the system.”

  “Ah, thank you,” she said, taking it.

  “No problem ma'am,” he said with a nod. He was fourteen, maybe fifteen. She wondered about the buzz cut. “Buzz?” she asked. He nodded. He was a farmer, broad shouldered, just coming on, on his own. “Buzz, if I may ask, why are you here?” she asked.

  “Adventure ma'am. I didn't want to spend the rest of my life on a farm. Sure Gaston is changing...” he shrugged. “But I'm the youngest son of 12. I'm not going to get anything and I can either get into industry or go break ground in the wild... or well, this.”

  “Adventure yes! Risk, reward! Hot babes a plenty!” The Gashg exclaimed in delight.

  “Well!” Wendy said, eying them. They were all young she now saw. All full of life. She just hoped their infectious risk taking didn't infect her Jane. It was bad enough that Jane had picked up some mannerisms from that cowgirl woman, and still insisted on wearing that wretched hat. “Fine then. We'll show you around here. I expect you to mind your P's and Q's. The Captain's word is law. Understand that. We'll show you the mess and head and explain what to do in case of an emergency.”

  “Aye ma'am. We'll try to behave and stay out of everyone's way. We've got a lot of reading to do,” Buzz said, holding up a precious tablet.

  “Reading?”

  “Exam prep. I want to be an officer.”

  She blinked in surprise and then nodded. “Oh.”

  The Captain watched Wendy lead her troop out and then came out of the shadows of the flight bay hatch. “This had better be worth it,” he growled, watching the crew transfer the cargo to hover pallets and then push and pull them to the hold. The Veraxin was there, pointing the way. Some of the shapes were awkward, others were rather straight forward boxes. It was incredibly tempting to peek, but he resisted it.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Pyrax had changed, the Captain realized. He knew time held no barrier to change, but still. He wasn't the only one shocked by all the industry and activity in the system their sensors picked up.

  “Sir we're being hailed by a ship off the port bow. A small ship.”

  “A ship?”

  “Yes sir. There are two there. Sir, the hail states the ship one point five million kilometers off our starboard side is a frigate. The Centurion. Captain Samuels, Naomi Samuels.”

  “A frigate? You mean a warship?” the Captain asked, sitting up straight.

  “Yes sir. Navy,” Rodrick said, looking up from his console. “They want us to state our intentions and flight plan.”

  “Not very friendly are they?” Rose the navigator and helms woman asked.

  “No. Can you blame them with the pirates around?” Rodrick asked.

  “As you were. Mister Rodrick, send them our identity. Then ask for directions. Send them the files Mr. Fenly sent as an introduction.”

  “Aye sir,” Mr. Rodrick replied dutifully, tapping at his console. He frowned, then linked the message that they had from Mr. Fenly and then sent it too. “Messages away.” The signal went out through their single operational whisker laser.

  After a long moment of quiet Rodrick cleared his throat. “Still waiting for a response sir.”

  “I'm wondering what they will say?” Rose murmured.

  “It'd better be we've got your money, come in or we're leaving,” the Captain growled. He stared at the little ship on his tablet. It was a picket ship, but what was the other ship? He looked at it. It was smaller, but only slightly. Unlike the manta shaped frigate this was a long needle of a ship. It's rear bulge was flanked by 3 nacelles. It was smooth, beautifully maintained he thought. At first he thought it was a yacht, he'd seen some turned into small freighters. He could never really understand the need, at best you could haul a couple people and hundred tons of cargo. That wasn't hauling freight, that was nothing. It was a waste of fuel and time.

  “Sir, we definitely have their interest,” Mr. Rodrick said a few minutes later. “We've received a telemetry signal to steer clear of the mines.”

  The Captain looked up in surprise. “Mines? Did you say mines?”

  “Yes sir. We're in the middle of a minefield,” Rodrick replied, paling slightly. Rose looked up, eyes wide. “They are stealthed sir, with civilian gear we can't see them.”

  “Oh. That's just...”

  “We're cleared to go in system. However they've passed on a warning not to use our wedge until we are at least a two million kilometers outside the minefield and not near the yard.”

  “Fat chance, we haven't used our wedge in nearly a century,” the Captain murmured.

  “Closer to two sir,” Rose replied softly.

  The directions finally caught up to the Captain. “Wait. Yard? What yard? What is a yard?”

  “The Navy shipyard complex. That yard,” the exec said, pointing to a series of stations and a giant moon near the familiar Anvil space station. Ships and other craft were swarming all over the place, going about their business. He sent the image to the Captain's portable display, as well as to the navigator.

  “Oh that yard,” the navigator said softly. “Spirit of space. Someone's been busy!”

  “I'll say. I think, if memory serves that's a construction slip there,” the Captain said. He was looking at the image on his small tablet, frowning as he tried to pick out details on a view screen no larger than the palm of his hand. “Damn it, I wish the main viewer worked,” he grumbled.

  “Slightly better view on my display sir,” Rodrick offered. The Captain waved that off.

  “No son, you need it for your duty. I'm just passing the time. We'll see more details as we get closer I suppose.”

  “It's... wow,” the helms woman said. “How are we supposed to navigate that?”

  “I'm receiving telemetry now,” Rodrick said. He tapped receive, saved the file, and then sent it to her display. “You should have it in a moment.”

  “I don't see it... where, oh, okay,” Rose said, nodding. “I have it now, thanks. I'm guessing someone sent it to us?”

  “The Frigate. The Centurion sir. They are also letting the yard know we're coming in.”

  “Centurion?”

  “She's new. Very new judging from her paint,” the Captain said softly, zooming in on the ship with the bow cameras. “Hull markings... United Federation Sapient Planets Navy PF-000012. It seems there are a lot of them. What is PF? I wonder what that stands for?”

  “Pyrax Frigate,” Rodrick replied. “That's a shipyard sir, I imagine they built it.”

  “Indeed. Well, this will be interesting then!” the Captain said with a smile.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  As they approached the yard a growing sense of wonder worked its way through the crew. In order to better see it the Captain had them shunt the signal to the central ship's net. Most of the bridge crew had gathered in the galley where the biggest screen was available.

  Others were there, off duty, all watching eagerly for any new detail they could spot and point out to the others. It was a bit of a game, who could spot something new and exciting first.

  The ship slips were the thing they were focused on, but the occasional orbital warehouse also got their attention. Rodrick moaned at all the tugs and small craft darting around. Some were manned, some were automated. All seemed busy. That was logical, they had a lot of projects going on.

  There were many ships, many lit dry docks. Dozens, hundreds of all sizes, most brightly lit. The central yard looked like a tree, octagon slips were the branches. The largest branches had them excited. There was a ship, a battleship o
f all things. Other ships could be seen as well, each wrapped up in their own activity.

  Unfortunately many slips were dark or covered in opaque plastic panels to hide their contents. They could also see half completed ships arranged in neat formations out beyond the yard. “I wonder what that's all about?” Rodrick asked, pointing to them.

  “No idea. And something tells me they won't tell us so don't bother asking.”

  “I wonder if they're selling ships?” Rodrick asked.

  The other officers looked at him in amusement. He hunched his shoulders. “It's a legit question! I mean they could be selling them to neighboring systems as protection...”

  “As if anyone could afford it. The question is why?”

  “Irons. That admiral guy. Pirates. This is their answer. His answer. They're gearing up to go on the offense I bet, not just defense. Now I understand why we've got passengers,” Wendy murmured. The Captain glanced her way. She shrugged. “To have that many ships you have to have crews to man them right sir?”

  Slowly the Captain nodded. “I see,” he murmured. So many warships made him nervous, he was glad he was on their side. “Any word?”

  “There's a lot of message traffic going around the system,” Rodrick replied with a shrug. “Nothing directed at us for now. I think I did pick up something about us on a media feed, how we're going to the yard directly from the jump point instead of to Anvil or the nearest colony...”

  “I take it someone's interested in that?”

  “I'm guessing yes.”

  “Keep me posted,” the Captain said, nodding.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  The Governor frowned as his aide rushed in to his office. “What is it?” he asked testily, looking up. One hand was on the blonde woman's head between his thighs. The aide noted that the woman wasn't the Governor's wife, not that it mattered to him. The Governor scowled and motioned for his secretary to leave with a rough hand. The woman got up off her knees hastily, wiped at her mouth and then rushed out, head down.

  The aide diverted his eyes as his boss zipped up his pants and then settled. “And next time knock you moron,” the Governor growled. He was a charismatic man, which was why he'd gotten the Governorship. But he was a puppet, a puppet without a master. With the speaker dead Walker was turning into a bull, finally finding his power and using it aggressively. Sometimes too aggressively, it was costing him in the polls.

  Scandals were another problem. The Governor's wife was barely speaking to him in private, though she had a polite face on in public. The fact that she didn't stay in the growing capital colony and instead made the rounds of the system as his proxy had been noted by some in the media.

  “Sorry sir,” the aide said gulping. “But this is important.”

  “It'd better be,” the Governor growled.

  “It is sir. There's another ship coming in, a delivery to the Navy from the admiral. We just got word from our source in administration.”

  “Interesting. A delivery?” Walker asked, netting his fingers together on his desk. He rocked side to side slowly. "Do we have a copy of the manifest?" The lackey shook his head. "Right," the governor said pursing his lips. “Irons again? He sent that other one back on Destiny. We never did get a piece of that.”

  “Yes sir. I mean, no sir. No we didn't.” He knew certain industrial parties weren't happy about being kept out of the spoils. They were financing the Governor's reelection campaign.

  “Well, this time Logan's not getting it. Call the ship. Order them to divert to the capital,” he growled. “Make sure they don't contact the Navy again. Don't give them any wiggle room. We'll see what that pissant Logan says when we take the shipment and tell him to piss off.” he growled with a wolfish smile.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  A day out from the yard they received a signal. Rodrick scowled and then headed to the Captain's quarters. He hesitated to knock for just a moment, then frowned and did so.

  There wasn't a response for a long moment. Then he heard the Captain swear just as he raised his fist to knock harder. “Who is it?” the Captain growled.

  “Rodrick sir. Message from the system Governor,” the communication's officer replied professionally.

  “Really?” the Captain could be heard getting up and then the hatch clanged as he undogged it and opened it. “Let me see it,” the Captain said, taking the tablet.

  Rodrick handed it over with a quick glance. The Captain had been in bed, he had an aged tank top on and boxers. Boxers with yellow happy faces all over them. He stood there stiffly as the Captain scanned the message.

  “I'm a little confused,” the Captain finally admitted. “Didn't the admiral send us to the Navy yard?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “And he's the paying customer. Or will be paying when we make delivery. Who is this Governor Walker? And what does he have to do with it all?” he asked. According to the message Governor Walker was ordering them to change course to the capital colony that was currently under construction on the other side of the local star. There they were to make delivery. They were not to discuss it with anyone including the Navy.

  “I'm not sure sir...” Rodrick said, but there was a hint of speculation in his voice. The Captain's eyes darted to him briefly.

  “But I'm sure you guessed?”

  “I think Walker was involved in chasing Irons out sir. He's after whatever the package is. He's trying to jack the delivery.”

  “Really. I'm wondering that myself. I noticed he didn't say anything about compensation. Just that it was an order.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Call the Navy. Get them involved in this. I don't like this Walker's attitude. He may be Governor of the system, but this is my ship and we make delivery.”

  “Yes sir,” Rodrick said grinning.

  “If the Governor insists, tell him to talk to the Navy.”

  “Aye sir,” Rodrick replied, taking the message tablet back.

  “Anything else?”

  “No sir. Sorry to interrupt your sleep,” the communication's tech replied.

  “I'll get over it. Get back to your post.”

  “Aye sir,” the communication's tech said snapping to attention. The Captain eyed the snap and snorted. Everyone was snapping too and had an extra spring in their step ever since they'd arrived. He didn't mind it, it meant morale was good. Rodrick turned and the Captain closed the hatch.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Commander Logan looked up as his yeoman came in. “Sir, we're getting a hail from that ship coming in.”

  “Ship?” Logan asked, raising an eyebrow. He was aged, incredibly aged, but still fit and mentally able. But controlling the naval presence in the system was taxing him more and more.

  “The Mariah's Mischief,” Yeoman Liam Burkov answered. He was the third shift Yeoman on duty.

  “Another health and welfare check?” Horatio asked. They'd had a lot of them lately. He didn't mind, helping them out made the ships not only safer, but helped spread good will. Besides, it gave the intel shop a picture of things going on in the sector abroad when they accessed the ship's computers.

  “No sir. Delivery. From the admiral,” the yeoman replied.

  Logan frowned, sitting up straight. “And why am I just hearing about it now?” He demanded, voice cooling.

  Liam winced. “I'm not sure sir. I'm guessing the original messages may have gone astray. At any rate they just sent in a call, apparently Governor Walker is ordering them to deliver their cargo to him and not to the Navy. They sent a message asking for confirmation.”

  “And how did he hear about this when I didn't?” the Commander asked as he opened the file with his implants. There was an attachment, the original message from Governor Walker and a second attachment, this one from the Admiral. It was brief, just a pass with a scrambled file. Decrypting the file gave him a list of inventory as well as a note that the crew was going to hand deliver a personal message to him.

  He scanned both messages
briefly again and then scowled. Someone somewhere had kept him out of the loop. Possibly deliberately. He didn't like that. He liked it even less that Walker had been involved. That same someone may have slipped the good Governor the news of the load.

  “Send a signal to the Mariah's Mischief, they are to deliver the cargo to its intended destination and that we'll deal with the Governor.”

  “The Governor isn't going to like that sir,” the yeoman said cautiously.

  “The Governor can go piss up a rope. This is Navy business, which I will point out to him. Get that message off, I'll record one for Walker. And Liam,” he said as the yeoman started to turn. “Don't worry about it. We're Navy. We're not here to kiss his ass, we're here to keep the people and infrastructure safe. Now get, I'll deal with him,” he said. “And clear my schedule for when this ship comes in. I want to meet them personally,” he said.

  Liam nodded. “Aye sir.”

  “Dismissed.”

  ...*...*...*...*...

  There was a small tinkling sound in the great spacious office. The Governor looked up with a patented frown of disapproval. Finally he oriented on the sound and stabbed a finger on the blinking yellow button.

  “Yes? What is it?” he demanded. Ever since the last interruption he was irritable as all hell. He needed that daily servicing to take the edge off his temper. Getting interrupted like that had shortened his fuse quite a bit.

  “Sir, the ship isn't changing course,” the aide replied.

  The Governor scowled. He sometimes regretted never getting implants. He just couldn't see trusting himself to that bitch Thornby. She'd kill him, he just knew it. Make it look like an accident. He shivered. No, he'd have to make do without.

  But there were times like now that he was okay with not having them. He'd been going over the construction plans for the capital colony. There was a lot of graft and back biting involved, the entire project was giving him a headache and costing more than he'd planned. Even his usual cut seemed to be excessive now.

  “And we've just received a message from Commander Logan.”

  “I thought I told you to tell that ship they were done with dealing with the Navy?”

  “Apparently they ignored it sir,” the aide said, sweating profusely. “Do you want the message from the Commander?”